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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438587">The Ballad of the Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_88/pseuds/Ro_88'>Ro_88</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Has Magic (Merlin), Arthur Whump, BAMF Arthur, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Family Secrets, Good Morgana (Merlin), Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I probably forgot some - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magical Violence, Manipulation, Merlin!whump, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, POV Alternating, Poor Merlin (Merlin), Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Probably Some OOC, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Psychological Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Sweet Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Sweet Merlin (Merlin), Tags Are Hard, These tags are not in order, Torture, Whump, evil!Balinor, like really evil!Balinor, magic restraints, magical torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:47:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>102,971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_88/pseuds/Ro_88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>*******************</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“No.” He whispered fiercely. “I know how to release it from within Merlin's body. We will free him before it comes to that. It was just a dream.” It had to just be a dream. That couldn’t be their ending after everything.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Morgana stared him in the eyes, her face hardening. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but she was deadly serious as she shook her head in defeat. “No, Arthur. If there is one thing you need to know about my visions, it’s that my dreams always, <i>always</i> come true.”</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>********************</p><p> </p><p>As only second in line for the throne, Arthur should have expected to one day be sent off to marry a princess far away. He hadn't expected it. Nor had he expected to be betrayed and imprisoned by an evil sorcerer along the way. Even less did he expect to meet someone there who would change his life forever. </p><p>As for Merlin, he never thought there was anything other than this life. This prison. This ruin that was his magic. It only took one person to show him there was something more worth fighting for. </p><p>But at what cost?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p>The first time Merlin ever killed someone was an accident. </p><p>He was only twelve winters old at the time, which was no excuse for the way the magic within him was strong enough and dangerous enough to end a life. Especially since he hadn’t even realized what he had done until it was already too late.</p><p>It should not have happened. He shouldn’t have even been there. </p><p>He didn’t think he would ever forget her dead eyes, nor could he ever forgive himself for that first life, no matter how many others he took in the years after. </p><p>He had just been so frustrated by how his father still treated him as a child, felt so confident he could handle more spells and responsibility than his father realized. More than that, he was just so deeply curious about what his father hid away in his work room, a whole small hut behind their home which was full of magic. It was all off limits. He could oftentimes feel the faint echoes of magic that his father worked there, and he couldn’t bear it for how it called to him. </p><p>Day by day and he steadily lost his focus, driven to constant distraction by the tantalizing lure of it. The dry tomes of magic lore and theory he was meant to be studying held no more secrets, provided no challenge, and beyond the magic he instinctively wielded, he had long outdone the narrow range of spells his father only let him test or practice with supervision. He knew he was capable of so much <i>more</i>, wanted to learn so much more. It grew into such a compulsion to know and maybe even to prove himself, that he found himself finally drawn to the heavy wooden door of the hut one afternoon when his father had left to the nearby village market.</p><p>Knowing better than to ask and be denied yet again, he had foolishly thought he could sneak in and his father would be none the wiser.</p><p>It was only too easy to place one hand on the lock, a flash of gold in his eyes all he needed to have the door swing open silently under his hands. It revealed a nearly pitch black room beyond. He stepped in without hesitation, pausing as his eyes searched the dark, adjusting to the deepness of it.</p><p>A moment later and he heard the air stir, something moving up above him towards the ceiling, and his eyes automatically raised to find the source. As he watched, the faintest hint of lights began to wink into existence, quiet and peaceful at first before a disembodied humming slowly began to fill the air.</p><p>He gazed up at them in wonder, the room lightening around him, each prick of light now more clearly a small ball of brilliance, each a different shade from sunny yellow to blinding white. They were circling and bobbing about each other in little bursts, and he laughed in delight at the pure beauty of the magic.</p><p>There along the wall were the shelves he had imagined, packed full of various bottles, boxes, books, and baskets. A heavy wooden worktable filled the center of the space, the lights twinkling off a myriad of glass vials filled with all shades of liquids, the smell of dried herbs and smoke heavy in the air along with other scents he couldn’t identify.</p><p>He wandered through the room, eagerly taking it in, careful not to disturb a single item, but bursting with questions and trying to contain the surge of longing he felt to be allowed in here to study magic properly alongside his father. He knew he would be able to prove himself if only given a chance.</p><p>Crossing the room, he found himself faced with a dark hallway the lights didn’t illuminate, the door at the end shut firmly with another lock. A deep breath later, and that door creaked open to a small room that was dimly lit from a small window on one side. And there was someone in it.</p><p>It was hard to say who was more startled at his entrance, the young girl curled up on the bed scrambling to press herself against the wall while Merlin stood dumbly in the doorway. </p><p>He could never remember later how she talked to him without speaking, couldn’t remember anything but how her name was Freya and that she was a prisoner here, a prisoner to his father. He remembered his shock and denial, unable to understand why a girl even younger than him was kept locked away in this room. He remembered reaching for her hands to try and comfort her, ready to promise to fix this, to get her out of there, when the mere touch of their hands caused his vision to go white. </p><p>She lit up before him like a small star, burning brilliantly bright and beautiful, and he couldn’t see anything but her magic flaring around them impossibly warm. He didn’t even know what was happening, couldn’t seem to tear his hands away from hers, couldn’t bear to let go as wave after wave of sunlight washed over him. And he took it from her, let it fill him up with a fierce happiness that burned him to the core, tingled along his veins until it was almost unbearable. </p><p>A few minutes suspending gravity, and then he was blinking back into reality, gasping, ready to ask her about her <i>magic</i> (he couldn’t believe she actually had magic!) but the face staring back at him was frozen in shock. Those warm brown eyes were blank and staring, and the beautiful rush of golden fire, her magic, was gone. He had taken it. And with it her life. </p><p>He didn’t even have a moment to truly understand what had happened, what he had done, before a rough hand was gripping his shoulder and ripping him away from Freya. She slumped lifelessly to one side, but her eyes wouldn’t stop staring back at him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away until his father’s large hands were dropping him roughly to the floor as he moved to place his fingers along her throat.   </p><p>Looking up at his father from the floor feeling numb, he desperately, wildly hoped that he had seen wrong, that his father would be able to heal her. But the eyes that turned to glare down at him were dark and furious. </p><p>“You’ve killed her! I told you, you are not ready, you foolish child.”</p><p>Then a hand was gripping his jaw, turning his face up roughly as his father’s gaze bore into him. He couldn’t read the expression on his face, didn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t believe he had killed a girl just by touching her, and his eyes burned hot as he gasped for air. The pure fury pouring off his father was like a heavy weight on his chest, darkening the edges of the room and muffling all sound but the rapid thundering of his own heart.</p><p>“You have ruined everything!” He hissed, the fingers on his face digging in hard enough to bruise. “You want so badly to be a man and join me in my work? Then, you shall have your wish.” He abruptly let go of him, careless of the way he tumbled to the floor, a sob catching in his throat. “And you will <i>obey</i> me.” </p><p>Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him, the sound of the lock clicking into place almost more horrid than the look of disgusted anger that he left him with. The dead body that he left him with.</p><p>The worst part should have been that it was all his fault that a young girl now lay dead behind him. Or that the first person he ever met to have magic, he had so easily stolen it completely away. But, no, the worst part was that he could still feel it, warm and alive, filling up his chest, and he felt sick with it.</p><p>He spent a long two days locked in that room, struggling to understand how his world had changed, trying to forget that he was now a murderer even with the evidence staring coldly back at him. And somehow, lost within himself and alone in the dark, he was finally able to douse that gentle flame he had stolen. He encased it in ice and locked it away deep inside his core, wrapping his magic as tightly as he could around it and hoping it would be enough.</p><p>He never felt quite right again after that day, his hands never again able to hold any heat, and only barely able to ignore the sharp prick of ice in his heart if he threw everything he had into mastering his magic. He committed himself to doing nothing but his father’s bidding, desperate not to cause any further disappointment. </p><p>And his eyes, his eyes stayed gold.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t realized at first that something was wrong. Not daring to lift his head and see the expression on his father’s face when he was finally let out of the back room, so it wasn’t until the next day that his father had noticed. </p><p>He had been meekly hunched over his spell book, trying to focus on the words and not the way his hands bunched in the folds of his thin summer tunic still ached with cold, when a trickle of his father's magic bade him come to his workroom.</p><p>This day he approached the squat building with nothing but dread pooling heavy in his gut, unable to speak around the way it clutched his throat tight. </p><p>When he stepped under the glow of those gently bobbing lights, his father had finally looked over at him and done a double take as their gazes met for the first time in days.</p><p>“Whatever spell you are holding, release it.” He commanded dismissively, and Merlin could only stare back at him in confusion. </p><p>“I haven’t.” He protested weakly, too ashamed to explain the way he still shied away from the feel of his own magic. He was too afraid to even touch it, let alone use it anytime soon.</p><p>His father stared at him with dark eyes, tilting his head slightly before they flared gold and a rush of magic washed over him.</p><p>The next moment his father was stood before him, hand gripping his jaw still smudged with bruises, and Merlin failed to suppress a wince. </p><p>His father considered him, tilting his face up as familiar magic prodded bluntly at his own. With a short ‘hmm’ he released him and tugged at his tunic. </p><p>“Take it off.” </p><p>Merlin hurried to obey, not daring to ask what his father wanted. He shivered as he dropped the clothing to the floor, even as the room was stuffy from the heat of the day. He resisted the urge to tuck his chilled fingers into his armpits, clenching them to his sides instead.</p><p>His father’s hand was then on his torso, tracing the black runes inked on his skin with confident smooth strokes. They had been there since Merlin was a boy, and while he didn’t remember how he had gotten them, sometimes he thought the childhood nightmares he’d had of a black sky swirling above him, of a glowing hot orange shape descending, again and again, and lines of fire bursting along his skin, were maybe whispers of memory. He’d had many fantastical nightmares as a child, but it had been many years since they no longer troubled him. He had lost interest in the tattoos after looking each one of them up in a book of runes once, concluding that they were there merely to keep him safe. </p><p>Abruptly his father turned his attention away, giving no explanation as he moved to the large chest to one side of the room. He unlocked it with a whispered word and the gesture of one hand.</p><p>Merlin could feel it the second he lifted the object out. It made his heart skip a beat, breath hitching as a sense of <i>wrong</i> shrieked in his ears. He had already backed away without consciously moving yet was unable to tear his eyes away from the thin metal bracelet his father now held. </p><p>His father smoothed fingers over it reverently, as if the ugly blackness emanating from it didn’t seem to affect him at all. With a heavy sigh, he approached Merlin and ordered him to offer his arm.</p><p>Merlin meant to obey, knew he needn’t question his father’s wisdom, but he couldn’t help but curl his hands protectively into his chest, his heart racing faster with each step that brought the cursed object closer. His father couldn’t mean to put that on <i>him</i>? </p><p>“My finest creation,” his father mused. “Although I hadn’t thought you would be needing it quite yet.” He loomed over Merlin, leaving no room to escape. “Your hand, Merlin. Don’t make me force you.”</p><p>Despite his best efforts Merlin could not bring himself to comply, couldn’t stop himself from struggling in terror as his father seized his arm and snapped the bracelet around one boney wrist.</p><p>It was agony like he’d never felt before, like a blade splitting him down the middle as stars exploded behind his eyes. He probably screamed, but he couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in his ears. He had no knowledge of how much time had passed before he slowly became aware of the way he was slumped in his father’s arms.  </p><p>He had thought he never wanted to feel his magic again. He had been so wrong.</p><p>A large hand brushed briefly through his hair, and his father was pushing him back. “There, now,” he soothed briskly. “Look at me.” </p><p>Merlin could hardly focus on anything except the pain, but opened tear filled eyes to find the shock on his father’s face melting into an expression that had never been directed at him before; his whole visage was soft with wonderous delight.</p><p>Then he laughed shortly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he hadn’t since he was a lad and rubbing a thumb through the tears under his left eye. Merlin reeled nauseously, the room tilting alarmingly around him. His father’s voice came to him as echoes down a cave, and the affectionate touch he normally would have savored felt rough across sensitive skin.</p><p>“Oh, my son,” he murmured through a smile, “it is still too soon. But, perhaps all is not lost.” He grasped him by the shoulder as if everything were fine, as if his magic wasn’t churning as it burned through his veins, yearning to be free.</p><p>And the reason for his joy was the reason Merlin’s life as he knew it was over. His eyes burned gold even through the power of the artifact that bound his magic so horribly. His eyes burned gold whether he used magic or not. And damn them, they even burned gold behind closed eyelids while he slept. </p><p>The next month was the start of complete and utter isolation. It wasn’t as if they had regularly seen their distant neighbors, nor did he have actual friends, but now he was forbidden from coming to market, no longer sent on a single errand, and he never again saw the kind young widow who had been a mother of sorts to him since as long as he could remember. </p><p>Now, too much time to himself fed into his depression, his guilt, his self-loathing. Through it all the bone-deep ache of losing his magic. He didn’t know who he was anymore, and the uncertainty lay over everything like a mantle. Nothing marked his days but for the increasingly invasive spells his father used on him, testing his magic, assessing his mind, and meticulously tracking his failed attempts to use any magic through the binds.   </p><p>The bracelet was removed at last once his father determined him to be stable, to be safe, and Merlin was ashamed of the crushing relief he felt when his magic washed over him in a wave of sparkling euphoria. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t know if he even wanted it anymore, but his father wanted it and he would give him as much as he needed. </p><p>His father never did offer any explanation for why his eyes remained gold, but he didn’t need to because Merlin already knew. </p><p>It was his punishment for killing Freya, marking him, unable to ever show his face again for fear of being hunted like the monster he now was. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>The third time he came to his father’s workroom was as an apprentice, and he was surprised at the small flutter of excitement he felt once he stood before the large work table, currently strewn with various plants, twigs, and flowers. A bright flame had the contents of a small glass vial bubbling above it, and that flame, which hovered half a finger span over the surface of the table, was electrically blue.</p><p>He had thought he was done. He'd thought that magic had been ruined for him, thought he would have to suffer harboring it within his body with resentment and fear. But no, this, <i>this</i> was beautiful and alive. This was what he had yearned to know, to see more of.</p><p>A dream come true was what the next few years of his life became. While his father drove him with a strict rigidness, and never offered a single look of approval nor a word of praise, he found it made him work even harder to try and earn it. Now that he was allowed knowledge and the freedom to practice real magic, he wanted nothing more than to do it right, to show his father he was right to put his faith in him. More honestly, he needed to prove to himself that he was good, was not just a golden eyed monster that killed everything he touched. </p><p>The rules were there to keep him safe, to help him learn the boundaries of magic, and he spent many a late night burning candles to puddles of wax as he pored through the shelves of books his father had instructed him to memorize. </p><p>And all of it was such useful, important magic. He found his passion ignited in growing things, combing the gifts of the earth with the gifts of his power, improving it, making it something <i>more</i>. Once his eyes and senses were opened to the magic that infused the very world around him, it was so simple to access it and to understand it, as natural as breathing to coax a bud to bloom, to revive the withered root of a vegetable, to gather more moisture into a cloud until it spilled forth rain.</p><p>He truly felt at peace, felt as if he’d found his place, and he spent all of one winter with his cold hands in the equally frozen dirt of their garden. His father never said either way, but he must have seen the miracle of fresh produce to keep them full all season.    </p><p>He tried not to take it to heart when his father impassively observed his work and then promptly commanded him to wilt the flower he had brought to life, to poison the berries he had proudly presented in the dead of winter, and to burn the young sapling he had brought forth with nothing more than a thought. </p><p>He was devastated, unable to hide his dismay, until his father had sighed and said, “You need to understand how things break before you will be able to truly fix them.” </p><p>And he understood that he had only been seeing half a picture, focusing so ardently on the side of creation and growth that he had neglected to learn the fullness of the cycle of life and death. </p><p>Which found him slowly working through the books he had previously avoided, the ones that described how to make things hurt, to bleed them of their strengths, to bend them to one’s will, the millions of ways in which to kill. The first time he read on how to boil the very blood in a man’s veins, he had snapped the book shut and cast it from himself, rushing out into the expanse of shoulder high dead grass that stretched over the hills surrounding their home. He stood there, breath ragged, until he couldn’t stand the cold stillness of death another minute. His hands brushed gently along the nearest brown dried stalks of grass, and he urged his magic to give them color and life, to just please, please, be <i>alive</i>.</p><p>Opening his eyes, he felt his heart still as before him in all directions spread a majestic golden ocean, swaying and rippling in a phantom late summer breeze. As he stood there alone amidst the swirling stalks, he couldn’t understand why he felt so empty. For some reason, the life he had created did not bring him the joy he had hoped, and when tears pricked his eyes he angrily tried to release the grass from his spell, to kill it and make it as ugly and cold as he felt inside. He found that for all his efforts, the magic held, and held. He ripped the nearest stalk from the ground, yet it remained sun warm and full of life even as he crushed it between ice cold fingers. He didn’t know why grass made him feel like this, and he wished there was a spell to make him stop feeling altogether.</p><p>When he returned to the workroom hours later, it was to find his father calmly crushing herbs into fine powder, and the book the had thrown lay propped open before Merlin’s seat. His father didn’t need to utter a single word as he slunk to his place, hand clenched tight around the remains of grass.</p><p>He spent the next month and a half struggling to master and set wards of protection and concealment around the perimeter of the clearly magical field. His father ran him ragged, hardly let him rest until his task was completed sufficiently. His fierce displeasure at Merlin’s ‘temper tantrum’ risking their safety was more than enough of a motivator for Merlin to go above and beyond, and he was fairly sure he had ended up drenching wide swaths of the surrounding forest as well. </p><p>His magic was born from a desperation to fix it, to keep anything and everything out, and from that day on people spoke of the curse that hung over the woods, one that repelled even the wildlife, one that provoked an urge to flee if only they could escape the hallucinations. He hadn’t meant to make it something sinister, to destroy the forest in such a manner, yet it was getting harder and harder to separate his natural tendencies from the growing knowledge of darkness that clogged his mind.</p><p>The violent magic he now studied filled pages upon pages, it seemed to bleed into his core like black ink across parchment. He knew magic was more than this, and it still turned his stomach, but he was afraid the pressure of it would soon rip open the tender scar that had formed over that black pit inside him. The one where he kept Freya. </p><p>His father now determined which books he read and drilled him relentlessly on countless incantations until Merlin was sure he could do them without words and merely through his will alone. There was no avoiding it. It didn’t matter that he spent extra time in ensuring he knew every counter curse, knew in theory how to stitch a body back together, or how to suck the poison from a wound. It didn’t matter because while he tried not to dwell on why his father was so set on teaching him black magic, he realized that he should have seen it coming. He should have known that there was a purpose to this focused training. </p><p>One late spring afternoon, he entered the room and was stopped short by the sight of an unknown man sitting in the large crudely made wooden chair that always sat in front of the stone fireplace.</p><p>The man had blood running down his temple and his head was lolling weakly against the back of the wood. His father stood before him silently, as if just waiting for Merlin to arrive. All the most grotesquely dark books in the world could never have prepared him for this, could never have prepared him for the reality of his father expecting him to practice hurting a living person. </p><p>He wanted him to slit his throat. Then he was meant to heal it before the man died. He just didn’t understand- </p><p>“<i>Why?”</i> He begged, unable to take his eyes away from that vulnerable form. “I- I can’t-”</p><p>His father slanted a dark look in his direction. “He is a criminal.” </p><p>As if that was enough of a reason to torture him, and Merlin was shaking his head, tripping over his own feet as he tried to put distance between them.</p><p>“You will do as I say, or I’ll make you practice on yourself.” He threatened, and Merlin’s heart twisted in his chest because if he knew anything of his father, it was that he always followed through.</p><p>He hated himself for not trying harder to resist, for not finding another way, for just giving in, but he was just so scared. </p><p>He didn’t even stop to think of what spell he would use, didn’t even look as he raised his hand and <i>slashed</i> at the man. He only turned to look in confusion at the silence that followed to see the man now awake in his chair, screaming silently in horror as the place where his arm should be gushed blood, and there on the floor –</p><p>And his father’s heavy hand was gripping him by the back of the neck, crashing his knees to the ground, the large iron ring he always wore digging into his skin and <i>burning</i> as he felt his father’s magic sink into him and pull.</p><p>“You. Do. Not. Hesitate!” He ground out, as he tore Merlin’s magic from him and used it as his own while he made a cutting motion with his own hand. Magic leapt from his father’s fingers to swipe across the man’s throat, and Merlin cried out in horror as the bold cut nearly separated the man’s head from his shoulders. And still the room was so <i>silent</i>, it was a living nightmare.</p><p>The man must be dead already, there was no way he could survive near decapitation, but his father was dragging him across the floor by his neck while his feet scrabbled pathetically to gain some sort of purchase, was throwing him against the sagging bloody form, and holding him there with steel in his eyes as he tried desperately to get away.</p><p>“Now heal him.”</p><p>He tried. Oh, how he tried. He tried until his throat was sore with screaming every spell he could think of, his head feeling ready to split in two as he gave up words and just <i>pushed</i> his magic with all his strength. He accomplished nothing but coating his hands in hot red, the thick smell of it choking him, and when his father finally released him he doubled over, gagging and sobbing.</p><p>And this was so much worse than Freya, so much worse, because he had tried to kill a man and he had ended up torturing him instead. </p><p>His father made him dispose of the body, but not until after he had drawn that horrid bracelet from the chest and locked it in place around his wrist, stepping aside calming as Merlin retched a second time from the pain. He didn’t even look angry or disturbed by the graphic scene before him, and something small and fragile within Merlin seemed to shatter in his chest. He couldn’t be certain it wasn’t his heart. </p><p>“No magic,” His father promised, “until you truly understand the cost of your disobedience.”    </p><p>He would soon learn that no matter how fiercely he tried to crush and lock away the horrors he committed against each new ‘criminal’ his father condemned, they were too strong and too many. He couldn’t bury them and so he had to live with them even as they weighed like iron shackles around his soul. </p><p>What had once been a home, was now a prison forever tinged with death, dark and silent. The unnerving pure silence made everything surreal, made the prisoners somehow less real, less human, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to give in and believe it, or if he should keep reminding himself of their humanity no matter how much it hurt.  </p><p>Yet, when he finally saw how his father was able to silence his prisoners to spare them both the screams, he had rushed from the room. He fell to his knees in his poor neglected little garden, shaking and shaking as silent tears coursed hot and thick down his cheeks. The humming lights he had once thought so sweet and beautiful, they were nothing but stolen voices, a sick sort of trophy. And there were just so <i>many</i> of them. </p><p>He stared at the rotten remains of his berry patch, remembered how it had given him so much joy once upon a time, and he couldn’t help but hate the very thought of it, hate how naïve and foolish he had been with his pretty magic tricks. No magical berry could ever outweigh the heavy cost of the blood they spilled. There was no coming back from this, and his magic had changed. He had changed.  </p><p>A few days later when he was alone in the workroom, mindlessly mixing up the ingredients to a restorative draught, one of the whispering lights above him changed slightly in tone. It was a gentle sound like the echoes of a tinkling bell, the laugh of a child, high and sweet, and he froze in his motions. The lovely sound of it cut him to the core, and the eyes he slowly lifted were stinging hot. He clenched his jaw as he forced the useless tears back. He knew which one it was right away, the bubble of molten gold that floated careless and free nearly lost amongst the others. And he couldn’t bear to leave it there, a voice that rung of innocence, a person who was gone now. Forgotten by everyone but him. </p><p>Freya. It was Freya’s.</p><p>He lifted one trembling hand and called to it, chest constricting as it so trustingly came. Cupping it like treasure between his palms, he knew this would be the last time he let himself care. He had to say goodbye to the boy he had been, the way he had been so convinced the magic within him was meant for something wonderful, that the world was some place wonderful. It wasn’t. And neither was he.</p><p>Coaxing the little light into a bit of obsidian that he chipped off his scraping tool, Merlin used his magic to fuse it to a sliver of metal he then fashioned into something he could pierce through the lobe of his ear. The sting of it was soothed by the gentle hum of the voice now pressed so close to his ear. Eyes slipping shut, his trembling finger lingered over the gem, hushing it as he breathed deeply, just once, then let himself go.   </p><p>It wasn’t long before he figured out that he could simply let his consciousness detach, could merely watch from a distance and float away as his body and magic obeyed the will of his father. And just like that it didn’t touch him anymore. It didn’t even hurt.</p><p>Nearly a decade later, and Merlin truly had no complaints with his life. He did as he was told and in return his father allowed him to test the limits of his magic, let him spend as much time as he liked shut in his room studying or out in the woods exploring the magic the world had to offer. Life was routine and simple, and who was he to care why his father wanted to experiment on whichever unfortunate he could get his hands on that month. It didn’t matter if he needed Merlin’s magic to do it. He didn’t care.</p><p>He didn’t truly care much about anything. Until Arthur came. </p><p>Arthur changed everything. </p><p> </p><p>*******************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SO excited to share this!<br/>I was rereading an unfinished story from another fandom that I wrote almost 10 years ago...but I almost died when I realized it was totally Merthur and I hadn't even heard of Merlin yet! &gt;ㅂ&lt;. I never knew how sad my life was without Merlin in it.</p><p>This has kept me up at night trying to write it all down!! It's already almost finished which is crazy for me. There are a few scenes rewritten from the old one, but mostly all new (and hopefully waaay better XD). And angst. Always the angst. :</p><p>I hope you enjoy it!! :D &lt;3</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So. Arthur was to be sold like so much chattel. </p><p>Just like that, the future he had always envisioned was taken from him. </p><p>He had made it to first knight as a mere youth of nineteen, an age his peers were still squiring, and had been well on his way to earning the title of the finest knight in all the land by his coming of age. Army General was within his sights, and there was none he trusted more than himself when it came to the training of the knights and the protection of his older brother, Crown Prince Leon.</p><p>Nothing filled him with more satisfaction than a hard day training, seeing the men responding to his guidance, seeing them get better as their confidence grew along with their respect in each other. He prided himself in being a protector of the people, not just with his sword but also with the power of his station. </p><p>An approachable prince who would do his best to listen no matter how trivial the complaint, who could take their grievances to the ear of the Queen. A prince who leapt at the chance to lend his brawn in the rethatching of a roof, the training of a hound, or that one memorable time an extra pair of hands was needed for a gelding. </p><p>Being out about the town amongst the people, on patrol with his knights, and making sure Leon didn’t get too deeply wrapped up in that nobly hard head of his, kept Arthur busy from dawn until dusk. Life was fulfilling and meaningful. Life was as it was meant to be, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. </p><p>He had thought his place in Alba was unquestionable, an essential bridge between the nobility and the general populace. They needed him here. He had so much more he wanted to do. He needed to be here. </p><p>And now, it was all for nothing. Visions of leading the knights of Alba into that shining prosperous future Leon promised, was to be replaced with a wedding. To some Princess in a land so far away it nearly fell off the map. </p><p>When his father revealed he had already accepted the offer, had already drafted up copies of what would essentially count as his ‘dowry’, Arthur was struck dumb.</p><p>It didn’t matter that they honestly needed the gold to fund the fortifications of their coastal towns as well as the construction of more galleys. The looming threat of the Saxons on their northern coast could not be ignored. They needed to mobilize their army, to feed and outfit them. They needed the money.</p><p>And apparently Camelot had prosperous mines, was rich in gold and gems, yet suffered heavily from the worst any kingdom could face: increasingly dire drought, plague, and famine going on near a decade. They were weak and desperate for food and textile if they were to survive the coming of the next winter season. Hardly the most ideal kingdom to be traded to for some gold. And now came the <i>anger</i>.</p><p>Nobody even asked his opinion.  </p><p>He didn’t even remember how he’d responded to the King, anything to just have the audience end as fast as possible. They probably saw right through him, but he numbly fell back upon the etiquette he’d been raised with, unable to look towards where his mother would surely be gazing at him with big sympathetic eyes as he turned to flee. </p><p>At the moment, he cared little for propriety and had no concern for who saw him barrel out to the training grounds like a man possessed. He didn’t even have to think as his feet led him to the armory, didn’t have to even look at the practice dummy to swing and hack at it with a very sharp sword. He would ruin the blade. He didn’t care.</p><p>A fortnight was all he was given to prepare himself to leave the castle he loved with all his heart. It was his home and he couldn’t bear to never see it again. He brutalized the splintering wood before him, tearing large chunks out of it with each jarring sweep of his sword. It vibrated painfully in his hands, hurt his shoulders, and would probably throw his back out of alignment for days. Yet, no matter how fiercely he attacked he still couldn’t dispel that horrid feeling twisting his chest.</p><p>All too soon, there was nothing left to fight, and he leaned wearily against the lump that remained. each breath tearing at his throat as it closed in on itself. </p><p>He’d never held aspirations to be king. His father had many years of rule ahead of him still, and then he wholeheartedly believed Leon would be the king they needed to continue that legacy and protect their kingdom. Arthur was meant to ensure that future happened alongside him, had been working himself so hard to not only prove his worth, but to make a difference to the utmost of his ability no matter how small it be.</p><p>Moreover, he still had so much to learn from Leon, nearly ten years his elder. His calm levelheaded tactics and ability to see the big picture contrasted with Arthur’s often times hot headed tendency to act first and question later. He took after Uther in that regard. </p><p>It was Leon who found him there a few hours later, slumped to the ground with his back to the wooden stump. He refused to leave his position until he had some sort of closure, some control over the anger smoldering deep in his gut. It was an insurmountable task, but if anyone could draw him out of it, it would be his brother. </p><p>The sun was low in the sky, bleeding into the dusty orange clouds, wobbling and melting the end of the day as it sunk lower. It threw the world into deep purple shadow, one of which dropped over him from above: Leon. He lifted his head to see his brother backed with the remnants of the explosion of that citrus sunset.</p><p>Arthur would have thought the picture magnificent, if it weren't for the sad look on his brother's face. His eyes were overflowing with understanding; he could still see right through him like always.</p><p>Leon was then dropping down to sit beside him, a silent unconditional offer of comfort, and Arthur automatically leaned until their shoulders touched. They didn't need words, there was nothing to say. What could they say when it was out of their hands, something so much bigger than personal dreams?</p><p>Leon would go on to become the next king, a strong beloved ruler, and Arthur would disappear from his life, gone to a faraway land never to return. His vacated position would promptly be filled, his duties distributed amongst others, even his chambers would most likely be set aside for Leon’s future heir. A matter of weeks and all traces of his life would be gone. How long until they didn’t even remember him anymore?</p><p>Arthur sighed deeply, filled with so many unsatisfied longings and regrets. So many which involved his brother. He'd always assumed they'd be together, would be able to watch his brother ascend the throne and take his place proudly beside him, but now they were suddenly facing their last two weeks together. It was only a single last breath before forever. It was all too huge and too impossible to bear, too hard to let go.</p><p>"Arthur." Leon’s voice was steady as always. "Even if it doesn't feel like it now, you'll be fine. Even without me." </p><p>Arthur didn't even want to pretend to believe him. "No, I wont." He denied, unable to curb his tone. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." He continued bitterly, and Leon slowly pulled away, turning instead to look at him.</p><p>"You'll find something worthwhile there, I'm sure of it. Something to make you smile again. And years down the line, I'm sure you'll be able to just keep me- Alba- as a warm childhood memory."</p><p>Arthur frowned at his brother, "Is that really what you want to become to me?"</p><p>Leon’s soft smile sent a small sigh of something close to relief trickling through him. His brother was an idiot a lot of the time, and Arthur knew him well enough to know that even if Arthur eventually moved on, that it was his brother who would never let go or forget. Leon would never stop feeling his absence. He knew he was being selfish as the thought still comforted him slightly.</p><p>"I just...don't want you leaving here with regrets and not facing this with everything you've got." Leon replied firmly, and of course he was right.  </p><p>Arthur sighed.</p><p>“You will be king, Arthur. They are struggling and in need of aid, of someone to help them out of their plight. Think of all the people whose lives you can change for the better. I believe you are the best thing that will happen to them.” </p><p>It sounded so grand and noble when put like that. And yet. "I never wanted this." He said quietly. </p><p>Leon looked so sorry, and Arthur felt like he should have just pretended along with him rather than state the crude truth. </p><p>Leon regarded him for a moment before meeting his eyes steadily, voice deadly serious. “They say the Princess Morgana's beauty is unparalleled.”</p><p>Arthur snorted, smiling despite himself. Damn it, but he wanted to keep sulking. He punched Leon in the shoulder roughly. “You know I don’t care about that.”</p><p>Leon cracked a smile back at him, rubbing the shoulder exaggeratedly. “They also say she goes out daily to personally distribute rations to the townsfolk. That her extra gowns were remade for the serving girls. She is the people’s fiercest advocate.”</p><p>Arthur glowered at him. “I know what you’re trying to do.” It was working. He hadn’t known anything about her, but a princess like that might just be one he could find true partnership with.</p><p>“I will send Mooney along with the supply wagons.” Leon said. He was speaking of the white hunting hound Arthur had personally trained and presented to his brother at his squiring ceremony so many years ago, and Arthur frowned.  </p><p>“His name is Gerland, and I gifted him to you.” </p><p>“Well, I’m gifting him back. And I will always call him Mooney, as your childhood nickname suits him far better.” </p><p>“I don’t even remember the moon, anymore.” Arthur grumbled, and looked up to the darkening sky as if he could catch a glimpse of something that had disappeared years ago. He’d only been five or six when, just like so many stars that inexplicably winked out among the great expanse of black, the moon had been there one night, and gone the next. </p><p>Gerland had been born a little ball of white fluff, and Arthur had thought of the moon, had wanted to remember it. It was silly, but the thought of having Mooney with him felt like he’d be taking a part of Leon with him. He couldn’t find the words to express his gratitude. </p><p>Leon must have seen it as he searched his eyes for a long moment before he nodded, then without warning drew him into a hug. "I will miss you,” Leon whispered brokenly. The tight ball of anger melted, and feeling like he was ten years old again, Arthur gave in and buried his face in his shoulder. Leon wasn't making this any easier for either of them, but at the same time he had needed to hear these very words.</p><p>“I will miss you more.” He said back, wanting Leon to know he’d never forget him. Wanting his brother to stop blaming himself for somehow failing him.</p><p>No more words were shared as they sat side by side until the sun had disappeared completely behind distant purple mountains now shrouded in navy clouds. The first stars pricked the velvet sky, and Arthur’s heart reluctantly settled as he said goodbye to Alba.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>A good month into their journey and Arthur knew for certain his growing feelings of frustration and loneliness were no longer just an amplification of his mood, the weight of a life left behind. No, day by day something grew more decidedly off throughout the whole company of men, and it set his nerves on edge. </p><p>It had been days, possibly even a week, since they had seen the sun properly. A heavy grey sky blanketed everything with gloom, the forest they trekked through endless and growing steadily more sickly with each passing day. The trees were diseased or dying, their branches sparse of foliage even at the end of summer. They were hard pressed to find game enough to fill a man, let alone twenty.</p><p>Arthur and his band of knights had left as soon as they could, taking a shortcut over the mountain pass and through the sprawling forest bordering the kingdom, while the promised supply wagons would be following a safer more round about route. They would have follow up shipments in another three months until Arthur was settled enough in his new position to be able to work with the council in Camelot and assess their needs enough to write up an amended plan of action.  </p><p>He had to admit he had not been his usual affable self for the majority of the journey thus far, spending many hours riding quietly while he brooded. They had let him be, and he’d been thankful for their tact in giving him space to grieve. Yet as the weeks passed and the land around them grew steadily more unwelcoming, he couldn’t deny the uneasy pall that had fallen over them all.</p><p>Sir Elyan was the only man Arthur had personally requested to join him on this journey, and he already regretted the decision even while he knew things would have been twice as bleak without his most trusted friend. </p><p>Guinevere had laughed so fondly, tears in her eyes, as they had both come to her separately, promising to keep the other safe. And he would keep his word. Then, regardless of how Elyan would no doubt resist him, he would send him back to her after things settled. He wouldn’t be the reason Gwen lost her only brother. </p><p>For now, Elyan was a steadying presence by his side even as the world they knew melted into one that was ailing and dark. He stayed loyally beside him even as the dynamics of the rest of the group shifted slowly and subtly into something he couldn’t understand.</p><p>Arthur had thought he may be imaging things when he first noticed how the knights seemed to gravitate around his manservant, Mordred, in a manner most unbefitting. As his duties to Arthur had temporarily been relieved until they reached their destination and he could again attend to him properly, he no longer followed Arthur like a shadow. Now, he would ride amongst the knights as they conversed in subdued voices, would join them at their fire at night, and left Arthur to tend to his weapons and meals on his own.</p><p>He didn’t begrudge Mordred the respite, he was an earnest and bright lad who had been his servant since his youth. He thought of them as friends of a sort, a younger brother he had secretly trained in swordplay even if it crossed a boundary his father would have him strictly adhere to. Here out in the middle of nowhere he found himself too unsettled to ride into the group and join them, awkwardly uncertain in a way he hadn’t felt since he led his first patrol. He couldn’t choose what company Mordred decided to keep, and a small part of him blamed himself for their odd behavior. </p><p>They were his father’s knights, honor bound to serve his command, and yet he wondered if they resented being selected to come to this foreign land and never set foot home again. Bitterness that was fed until it festered was a dangerous trait in any man, let alone a knight, and Arthur should have addressed that attitude the moment it manifested. </p><p>As it was, he feared the damage was already done. The sickness of this land seemed to be eroding away the minds of his men, and their increasingly blatant disregard for his station made him ponder the best course of action. </p><p>They had but a few more full days of riding until they were scheduled to reach the citadel in Camelot, and later Arthur realized his biggest mistake was in choosing to give his men even one hour more in which to steep their troubled discontent.</p><p>He chose to overlook their attempts to undermine and discourage him, knowing he would soon reestablish his authority when he thoroughly trounced them their first day back at training. They knew what he was capable of and it was only due to the unfortunate circumstances of their situation he held his weapon back now. He couldn’t wait to tan their hides. </p><p>However, his ire simmered hot with each new incident: his bedroll trampled with mud, missing rations from his pack, an attempt to sabotage his saddle, and the most humiliating and vexing was when they seemed to have started a game of pelting his back with various debris and no matter how quick he turned he couldn’t seem to catch the culprit. It only took Elyan yanking his horse around to lay into them that it stopped. There was much swearing and bashing of skulls, and Arthur found he couldn’t even force out a word even as everyone knew he never would have stood for such treatment in Alba. No one would have dared in the first place. </p><p>He didn’t feel quite himself, his confidence shattered, and he thought he was soon to be ill as everything seemed blown out of proportion. He never thought himself fatalistic before, but his men seemed ready to kill him, and his impending nuptials seemed as stone walls closing around him. He couldn’t <i>do</i> this.</p><p>Their antics had seemed harmless enough although petty and needlessly cruel. It would have sent his father into one of his rampages, throwing knights into the dungeons left and right until his mother spoke to them all and got to the truth of the matter. </p><p>He honestly was not sure what that truth was, here.</p><p>That night when they made camp, he fidgeted with his supper but kept his eyes trained on the knights milling about their tasks on the other side of the clearing. He felt that they were up to another of their silly plots and he wanted to catch them out on it. Not that they would even try if they truly thought he would reprimand them. The truth was he didn’t want to fight with them, and they somehow knew it. </p><p>Mordred had already been staring at him when Arthur’s eyes found his. He looked surprised as Arthur held his gaze, a faint ruddy pink creeping up his neck as obvious guilt crumpled his face. He looked quickly away, and Arthur’s heart sank like a stone.</p><p>A firm hand clapped him on the nape of his neck, shaking him fondly. “Don’t let them get to you, Sire.” Elyan slanted a wry smile at him, white teeth peeking through. “They will sort themselves out soon enough.”</p><p>Arthur tried not to show his friend how heavily the knights changing attitudes weighed on him. It was one thing to follow duty reluctantly, and quite another to act hostile towards their prince. Yes, they were his father’s men, but he had trained beside them every day, sweat with them, spent many a long patrol huddling for warmth about a fire, and had often joined them like equals for dice and ale. He couldn’t understand what had gotten into them. Not to mention the way Mordred seemed to slip into their ranks as if he’d always been there. </p><p>“Thank you, my friend, for staying true to me.” Arthur confessed, allowing a twist of vulnerability to show. </p><p>Elyan just laughed kindly. “If you’re so thankful, how’s about you give me that stew you’re butchering?” And Arthur felt lighter than he had in days. </p><p>It didn’t matter what fool ideas filled the heads of his knights, Elyan was right. Everything would be clear once they got out of this gods forsaken forest and they shook the cloying darkness from their minds. It would be fine, and he could look back and laugh at his irrational paranoia as some kind of pre-wedding nerves. </p><p>It was not fine. </p><p>The next morning he rolled over to see that Elyan was laying quietly beside him, already wide awake. He sat up, trying to stretch the knot out of his back, and froze. Elyan was not awake. He was dead.</p><p>Arthur scrambled to his side, an unbearable pressure crushing his chest as his fingers confirmed what his eyes were telling him. The weight on his chest moved up behind his eyes as he lifted trembling fingers to gently brush Elyan’s eyes closed. He bowed his head in sudden, heart crippling grief, sleep heavy brain scrambling to understand, panic rising slowly before he now looked around the campsite in alarm. </p><p>The men were sleeping around their joint fires, snores and snuffling breaths indicating life. They were safe. But then… his eyes fell to Elyan’s hand, still clutching his spoon. A bowl of stew was spilled on the ground beside him. Arthur’s heart stopped. </p><p>He had given it to him. And then he’d just laid down and gone to sleep while beside him his best friend choked and died all alone. Poison- they had tried to poison him. And dear gods, <i>Gwen</i>. How was he going to tell Gwen? He had to turn back, had to bring Elyan back to her.</p><p>He couldn’t stop the tears that burned down his face, holding back the sob that wanted to rip from his throat through sheer force of will. They had gone too far. He would stop this. He had to stop this, now. Camelot could wait. These traitors had to be brought to justice first. </p><p>A sound from across the fire made him turn, jumping to his feet as he whipped his sword from its place by his bedroll. </p><p>Mordred was stood opposite the fire, staring at him with eyes wide in dismay. He looked down at Elyan’s still form, then back to Arthur, brows drawing tight and something almost accusing filled his gaze.</p><p>“It wasn’t meant for Elyan.” He choked out. Arthur felt the words as a physical blow. His hand shook as he raised his sword.</p><p>“You <i>knew</i>.” He grit out. “This is treason. And you have murdered a knight of Alba! How could you do this, Mordred?”</p><p>His voice rose without his intention, and around the camp men were stirring, were leaping to their feet and grabbing weapons, assembling far quicker than they ever did when they were meant to on patrol. His blood rushed like a waterfall in his ears.</p><p>“Who is responsible for this?” He demanded. “Which of you men dishonor your knighthood, commit treason against your Prince?” His furious gaze roved over them one by one, breath growing rapid in alarm as one face after another showed nothing but grim determination. It couldn’t be. All of them?</p><p>He took a deep breath, centering himself, feet slipping into a fighting stance, and he knew he could best any of them, even a handful of them on any given day. He wasn’t so sure how he’d fair against all of them, but gods be damned if he didn’t try.</p><p>They came at him. </p><p>The smoldering fire was in the way, and they had to split around it, coming at him from either side, and Arthur attacked with all his raw agony and rage fueling him. He brutally slit the throat of the knight who carelessly kicked Elyan’s body away in his bid to get at Arthur, and felt no remorse. </p><p>He was still the best soldier, was still first knight and knew these men and their weaknesses, their patterns, like the back of his hand. He didn’t want to hurt them, but they had made it clear they had no such qualms regarding him. </p><p>Metal clashed and men grunted as one after another he cut them to the ground. His arms were beginning to shake, sweat stinging his eyes as each breath squeezed in his lungs, and even he knew there was no way to win against them all. He could see a group of them moving around the fight to try and cut him off from behind, and he knew if he let them close him off, he would be dead. </p><p>He hated to do it, he burned to just stand his ground and <i>fight</i>, but he couldn’t die here today. He wouldn’t let them get away with this, but he knew it would have to be another day. And he almost waited too long, gasping in pain as Bedivere managed to disarm him in his distraction, and Arthur twirled to kick him solidly in the chest, sending him tumbling into the men behind him.  </p><p>Then he turned on his heel and ran.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(((Edit! Sorry!</p><p>So Arthur is not from Camelot here. He's from Alba which is as far away from Camelot as we can go.<br/>It's a little awkward, I know, but I wanted to give them Camelot in the end, so. :)<br/>I missed changing the kingdom names in ch2 before posting, so please forgive the confusion if you already read ch2! ㅠ.ㅠ)))</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Merlin must have accidentally drank some of his poisoned water. Or, rather, he must have accidentally poisoned too much of the water. </p><p>His stomach was turning itself inside out. Grotesque shadows moved just out of sight, lingering in the corners of his eyes and causing his heart to pound. Without fail there was nothing there when he turned to look, and mind-numbing fear gripped him in a vice.  </p><p>Irrational fear, he knew, but it still felt real. It was falsely induced by the ugly magic he’d wrought upon the large river that flowed through the valley a day’s walk from their home. Anyone else who tasted its poison would have no defense against the crippling paranoia. </p><p>But, he had been careless and hurried in the casting, anxious to return home within the deadline his father had set. And now he would be facing more than merely a disapproving lecture.</p><p>Merlin groaned as he huddled wretchedly against the outcropping of rock he’d attempted to hide behind. Cowering like an idiot from the hallucinations of his own mind. He should have taken into account the groundwater, how it would spread far more widely and quickly than they intended with the addition of the potion to the spell. He should have anticipated such a thing and taken care of it before he made such a juvenile mistake. He had carefully studied and made that potion near fifty times the past month, testing its effects in as many ways as he could think of, and never once had he thought of the damned groundwater. </p><p>He realized he was panting for breath, near hyperventilating at the fact that he’d messed up, at the thought that his father might have already drunk the water and was working himself into one of his quiet rages. He would be ready to welcome his failure of a son home with a well deserved punishment. Merlin’s vision was spinning, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves of the trees coming to him as if down a long tunnel.</p><p>Taking a deep steadying breath, he bowed forwards until both palms and his forehead pressed to the dirt, sinking his magic into the ground as he expelled the poison from his body. The dry earth soaked it up readily and he pushed away the regret he felt at the feel of the toxin spreading from the point of contact like disease. His magic was only good for such things, and there was no use in feeling remorse. Not when this was hardly the worst of it. </p><p>He tried not to think about the horrific damage the diseased bugs he’d cursed the rats with had done. The scope of the dead after that one had caused even his father to balk. For once he hadn’t blamed Merlin, and it was the one time that his father had ever traveled the countryside with him, the first time in years he wanted him to send strengthening and healing magic through the crops as far and wide as he could manage. He thought it had been too little, too late, but surely nobody complained when their pitiful crops thrived for a whole extra two months. Nor when the food made of those crops seemed to heal not just the curse but everything from acne to sprained wrists. He hadn’t meant for that last bit. </p><p>Again, he was proving quite abysmal at controlling his magical expenditures and he knew he wouldn’t get away with it another time. He sucked in a breath of loamy earth and felt everything settle slowly back into place. The dread that had been rising in his throat sank back down before it sputtered out. Whatever punishment fell upon him, he more than deserved.</p><p>Even so, he couldn’t stop the silent tears he hid in his blanket that night when his newly broken fingers throbbed in agony. His magic was once again locked down by the bracelet and unable to aid him, not that he would even dare to try without permission. </p><p>He promised himself he would not make a mistake like that again. He worried he wouldn’t be able to keep it.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>When his magic exploded out of him to swirl up into the sky, Merlin couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled up alongside it. Spreading both hands up as if to embrace that baby blue expanse, he felt as if his very soul soared upon his magic higher and higher, pure <i>freedom</i>.</p><p>This was thrilling magic that tested his limits and it surged out of him in a euphoric wave. He reached for the droplets of water that hovered throughout the atmosphere and formed wispy clouds so very high above him. It was a trick he'd done many times as a child to create animals and people, but this time it was more purposeful. Coaxing and condensing, he encouraged them to build, to gather, and grow. </p><p>The sky once bright and sharply blue with a chill wintery day was quickly rolling over in a thick cover of heavy gray clouds. They bubbled and roiled as they formed abnormally fast to fill the whole breadth of the sky, blotting out the sun and sitting heavily upon the very air. </p><p>He pulled and pushed, sweat breaking out on his brow as he willed the clouds to <i>stay</i>, to suspend themselves indefinitely, neither dispersing with the wind nor darkening to drop their gathered water as rain. Gray and bleak, and gods it took so much effort and concentration. His whole body was shuddering with the strain of it. But his magic felt sure and strong.</p><p>The water drops were so heavy, aching to fall, and the clouds wavered and pressed against the magic that held them there despite the heat of the sun or the force of the wind which would dispel them. </p><p>He wouldn’t have been able to hold it on his own power for long, but he felt the crystal his father pressed into his now violently trembling hands. </p><p>“Now.” He commanded. </p><p>With a cry of effort, Merlin sank to his knees while he forced his magic into the gem and through it, driving the tether to lodge deeply into the sturdy thick tree they had chosen as the conduit. He sagged in relief, spent and weak, as a beam of golden light pulsed from the crystal and up to the dark sky once before sinking back down to glow gently inside its prison.</p><p>He wiped his sleeve across his forehead as he scrutinized the finished spell carefully. All seemed to be as it should, and he let out a slow grateful breath. </p><p>The sky would be dim and cloudy as long as the crystal sustained his spell. There was no way to know how long the tree might withstand tethering such immense power, but even his father couldn’t find a way around that rule of nature. It must have been good enough for his purposes to finally implement the intricate spellwork they had worked on for the past year. What those purposes were, even Merlin couldn’t know. He didn’t want to know, anyway. It was better this way.</p><p>While a heavy oppressive sky didn’t hurt anyone directly, besides some possible depression, he reluctantly acknowledged that it wouldn’t be long before drought followed in the wake of this feat of magic. It fit in line with the other destructive curses his father concocted over the years, and the land was now a patchwork of devastation and death. For all that it was caused by his hand, he still saw that it was fundamentally, hideously wrong.</p><p>Any time he surfaced from his detachment long enough to grieve, he yearned to heal it. But thoughts like that gave him ideas, made him clumsy, and from experience it didn’t end well if he tried to delay or prevent it in any manner. It wouldn’t do to question his father's reasons. It was best to simply do as he was told. Again, it was better this way.</p><p>Merlin ran his palm down the rough bark slowly, feeling the vibrating life of it and wondering distantly how it might feel to have a powerful magical object impaled in his own body. He wondered how long it would take to kill him.</p><p>A hand squeezing his shoulder startled him. He had lingered too long. He drew his hand back, expecting a derisive word, a slap to the side of the head, but when he furtively glanced up at his father’s face it was to see a rare smile looking back at him. Merlin’s heart skipped a beat.</p><p>“Well done.”</p><p>And his heart was soaring to the skies once more. Who cared if they were gloomy.    </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Merlin was shocked into dropping his tools the morning his father slammed into the workroom where he was carefully mixing a poultice. The resulting explosion of finely crushed powder plumed about him in a haze as he turned wide eyes to where his father was practically clutching the doorframe. He looked…wild. He had never seen his father look so. He couldn’t fathom what it meant.</p><p>“Get your cloak,” he nearly shouted, “we leave <i>now</i>!”</p><p>Merlin scrambled to do his bidding, powdered snakeskin in his hair be damned. </p><p>He felt stifled and quickly overheated under his hooded cloak as his father set a punishing pace into the forest. The urgency in his long stride made Merlin gasp around the stitch forming in his side before long. </p><p>Their destination must be rather close for not once did his father slacken to take a break. His determination was fearsome on a good day and Merlin struggled to keep up lest he be caught in the backlash.</p><p>It wasn’t until they neared the road leading towards the city of Camelot that they slowed to a more manageable walk, and Merlin was able to make out what looked to be a rather large commotion stopping up the foot traffic. He thought he could see a man laying on the ground in the center of it all. He swallowed thickly as he struggled to even out his breathing.</p><p>So, it was to be another criminal for his father’s experiments. He wasn’t sure why they had to run through the forest to catch this one, but he only had another ninety paces to make sure he was empty and blank before they reached him and his father made him into a jailer once more.  </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p>Arthur ran as fast and as hard as he could. He didn’t know where he was, where he was even going, but he couldn’t stop. He had thought he even made some headway, but all too soon he heard the sound of a mounted hunt rising up behind him. His men as he’d trained them, and now they were hunting for <i>him</i>. </p><p>And, no. He wouldn’t be afraid of them. He was already running like a coward. He could at least run like a brave, self-preserving coward. But he had lost his weapon. It was one of the first things he drilled into the new recruits to never do, and he would curse himself if only he didn’t have to focus everything into just breathing.  </p><p>They closed in on him quickly; he was hyper aware of the shouts and snapping branches behind him, of men hot with the need for blood. Each ragged breath matched the frenzied repetition of all strung together thoughts. <i>Keep going. Lose them and find shelter. Just a little more. Keep going. </i></p><p>His lungs burned, legs beginning to seize up from the effort of pushing on. His chances of survival were dwindling with each moment he stumbled more than ran, and the sound of horses crashing through the undergrowth behind him was relentless. They would hunt him to the ground.</p><p>He had a stitch in his side, cursing weakly as he finally tripped and fell heavily to his knees, gasping and panting. He was exhausted. Then, as he determinedly heaved himself back to his feet, the first horse burst from the tress to his left.</p><p>"Here!" The rider bellowed, and resounding shouts replied from throughout the surrounding forest. There was nothing else for it, he started to run again.</p><p>But he was no match for a horse, a quick glance over his shoulder showed the number of riders now to be near a dozen, and that was all that was left of them. It seemed their pace had slowed as well, confident that here in the middle of nowhere he would run out of energy and they’d catch him. Then they’d kill him.</p><p>He stumbled, a sudden whistling sound behind him had registered too late, too tired and too slow to realize what it was before a sharp jab of fire pierced deeply into his side. The sudden impact of it nearly had him down on the ground. He grunted, too out of breath to even scream as the pain ripped through him.</p><p>His vision blurred and swam before he could blink everything back into focus and break into a run again, relying solely on the rush of adrenaline that the pain provided him. He continued stubbornly forward, limping and stumbling as hot blood dripped from the wound in his side. His strength was seeping out with it and he knew he should just stop moving, should turn and face them now with the last of his pride and look them in the eye as he died. He wasn’t afraid of them, just afraid of what they planned to do once he was gone. </p><p>But his feet continued to carry him forward, tripping through bushes and out into suddenly flat grassy land. His heart sank in his heaving chest. Unprotected and exposed, it would only be too easy to shoot him down like an animal. No honor in this death, no one to care nor anyone to even know what happened to him.</p><p>That was until his burning eyes focused slightly and he couldn't believe what lay before him. After months on end with only the company of his own men and the endless trees about them it was a shock to see a road, wide and well maintained with a few people and even a donkey-led wagon in sight. </p><p>They must be closer to the capital than he’d thought, and he'd somehow found the main trading roadway. They had all agreed on the shortcut through the woods, yet surely they should have joined the road long before now. It was too late to speculate if that would have saved them from the craze that had afflicted them all</p><p>As it was, he ran headlong towards it, all caution thrown to the wind and a fierce crazy hope filling him. They wouldn't shoot him down in front of all these people, would they? So far away from home and in foreign lands no one would recognize him, but would they just stand by and watch a man get murdered in cold blood? </p><p>He drew closer, the knights following behind, and already some people had noticed them if the soft cries of shock and chattering was anything to go by. Arthur gathered all his remaining strength to make his way to the side of a farmer's cart.</p><p>"H-help me! Please!" He begged, hands gripping the side of the cart. He hung on for dear life as the man looked down at him in shocked horror. </p><p>His wide eyes flicked up to take in the group of riders bearing down on them quickly, weapons drawn, and shook his head frantically, snapping his whip across his mule's back. "Get away!" He roughly shoved Arthur’s hands off his cart with the soles of his boots, and unable to stand any longer, Arthur finally collapsed to the ground.</p><p>The voices and noise of people swirled in his ears, echoing and ringing. The world tilted and spun leaving him alone in the middle. </p><p>Strong legs of horses moved before his eyes moments later, circling around and around him as his knights surrounded him. The thudding of boots in the dirt shook the ground as they dismounted before closing in even more. They cut off his air and blocked out the sky. And he was struggling to breathe, swooning beneath them with black creeping his vision as blood continued to seep from his body.</p><p>He must have temporarily blacked out because the next he knew he was being tugged upright by hands in the back of his tunic. When he was able to lift his head enough and focus, he found that Mordred was now standing before him, Sir Pellinore by his side. They were speaking about him as if he couldn't hear or see them.</p><p>"There are too many people watching."</p><p>"Then just drag him back into the forest. Hurry before anyone tries to do anything. Those knights are watching us."</p><p>"We don't have time. If we don't finish him off now- everything we've planned could go wrong." </p><p>"Maybe he'll just bleed to death right here-" </p><p>"What is this all about?" A pompous voice spoke loudly over their hushed whispers from outside the huddled circle of men and horses. </p><p>Sir Bedivere, as Captain of his Guard, straightened to face the newcomer who was leading a small group of men towards them. </p><p>They were dressed in the scarlet and gold colors of Camelot, but their clothing was worn and dirty, cracked dark leather strapped across their chests in place of chainmail. Their faces looked pinched and ragged, and while they obviously were knights, they looked more like a ragtag group of bandits. The pitiful sight of them made Arthur despair. And he would have felt proud of the gleaming mail and the confident poise and strength of his own men in contrast, if only they were not currently trying to kill him. </p><p>People had gathered around them now in a small crowd, seeming to find confidence in the presence of their own knights. He clenched his jaw against the pain, against the humiliation of being a spectacle. </p><p>"Who are you, and what is your purpose on the royal road?" The knight in the front looked down a straight nose at them, flipping a mane of chestnut curls in a manner more pretentious than threatening and Arthur felt a sudden hysterical urge to laugh. Behind him, a dark scruffy knight with soulful brown eyes attempted to hide a snort, coughing into one shoulder. They were appallingly unprofessional.</p><p>Bedivere cleared his throat, hesitating as if unsure if the man was disparaging him, before drawing himself up and speaking in a carrying voice. "We are knights of Alba, escorting Prince Arthur to fulfill his arrangement of betrothal to your Crown Princess. I'm sure you must have been informed." </p><p>There was a faint ripple through the crowd and it seemed that even the commoners had already heard of his coming. The man's eyes narrowed and he looked around the group, zeroing in on Mordred as the company of men circled around him protectively.</p><p>Arthur noticed blearily through his pain induced haze that Mordred had at some point donned Arthur’s blue and silver-trimmed cape meant for occasions. Arthur’s ceremonial long sword was dangling awkwardly off his hip. He looked a lad playing dress-up, and the rugged knight apparently agreed.</p><p>“Prince Arthur?” He sounded dubious. “Where is the rest of your entourage? No provisions nor servants to attend you, then?”</p><p>Mordred stared back at the knight haughtily, a flash in his eyes and a stubborn set to his chin, for all his treachery looking exactly the part of a prince. After all, he was as good as one himself with the knowledge and number of connections he had. That guileless baby face and big blue eyes had charmed more than just Arthur on many occasions, and nobody truly saw the servants who were present at even the most delicate of state meetings.</p><p>“Of course they are on the way, how dare you imply-” Kay began darkly, but Mordred held up a hand like he was born to command. </p><p>“Peace, Sir Kay.” He turned to look up at the knight. “My father thought it best to send me ahead with only my personal guard of knights. Afterall, it is not merely a state visit. Our journey has been long, and I would be honored if you and your knights accompany us the rest of the way.” </p><p>The knight nodded smoothly, muttering something to his men that made the one with arms the size of tree trunks roll his eyes, before he turned his attention to slowly survey Arthur. </p><p>"What's your business with this man? Is he not one of your own?" Suspicion was clear on his face, and the men behind him had their hands resting pointedly on the hilts of their swords.</p><p>"A knight in our company, yes." Bedivere replied without hesitation, "He committed treason in an attempt on the Prince’s life. He is a disgrace to the knights’ code. We had no choice but to subdue him, and he ran from us like a coward. King Uther would have him put to death."</p><p>The man frowned as Bedivere spoke, continuing to look at Arthur with those fathomless eyes. "That as it may be, you are no longer in the kingdom of Alba. And as such, the criminal is now subject to our laws. You will turn him over to us."</p><p>The men shifted about him uneasily as the two groups of knights took measure of each other. It was a risk they could not take, even Arthur knew they would never let them take him alive. </p><p>He was the true prince and would expose their whole rebellious plot during interrogation. Although there was no guarantee they would believe Arthur’s words, and he had no way to prove his identity or innocence, all it would take was an audience with King Bayard and a message back to Alba. They would have to check before they condemned him on the slightest chance his story prove true. Sending even a single knight would be all they needed to verify his claims and it would all be over.</p><p>"I'm afraid we cannot do that." Mordred protested stiffly. "This man knows too much. We'd be fools to leave him a prisoner in your hands."</p><p>The knights of Camelot instantly bristled, swords now pulled from sheaths to point down at them threateningly. </p><p>"Are you disrespecting my authority as His Majesty's first knight?" The words echoed in Arthur’s ears, the world fading in and out as shouting and arguing broke out in full force around them. More swords were drawn, and the archers seemed unsure of whether to point their arrows at the other knights or down at Arthur.</p><p>It was ridiculous, the way they were fighting over his life as he quietly died anyway on the ground between them. Neither side wanted to step down and acknowledge the other's power. </p><p>"And are you not here on peaceful terms, Prince Arthur?" The tone was mocking and barely concealed the animosity and distrust.</p><p>Arthur’s men conversed in low rapid murmurs, and it seemed there was really no way out of it.</p><p>"Enough, then. We only have one condition..." Kay finally spoke up and beside him Mordred grabbed his elbow quickly, eyes flashing as he hissed in the man's ear.</p><p>"And what condition is that?" The soulful knight was asking.</p><p>"We'll need to cut out his tongue."</p><p>The statement was followed by a short silence, broken only by the sound of Arthur's body slumping over to the ground.</p><p>"Is there something he shouldn't be saying? Something we shouldn't hear about your little envoy of peace?" The knight with the hair asked with challenge in his voice.</p><p>"He has been the Prince's personal manservant since youth. There are matters of royal privacy." Bedivere replied with a steely glare. "I'm sure it is even above your rank to dictate such matters as those that concern their Majesties. I ask you to remember our Prince will one day become King of Camelot."</p><p>The knight's eyes inevitably landed on Mordred at the words, and there was a tense moment of silent stares and fiery eyes. Mordred met the gaze solidly, proud and unreadable, and the knight seemed to battle with himself as he realized the possible repercussions of offending the man destined to be his next king.</p><p>The dark handsome knight came up beside him to place a hand on his shoulder. “Stand down, Sir Gwaine. There lies no honor in disrespecting the men of Alba. We are meant to welcome them.” </p><p>"You see how suspicious they are, don't you, Lancelot?" Gwaine’s lips curled into an ugly scowl as he turned back to Bedivere. "Then please let us assist you in dealing with the criminal. If he doesn’t die from his wounds, I personally assure you his tongue shall be cut.”</p><p>The retort that came to the knight’s lips was short lived as a new deep voice suddenly split clearly through the building noise. "Why cripple a perfectly good specimen when there's a shortage of available bodies?" The knights twisted to find the speaker as the people surrounding them suddenly began to whisper and chatter more noisily than before. "I'll be glad to take him off your hands since you seem unable to come to an agreement."</p><p>In an instant, the knights of Camelot all exploded into action, dropping into fighting formation as their swords all turned as one to train on the form of a tall broad man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere.</p><p>It was as if the Alban knights didn’t exist anymore, and the gathered peasants had fallen eerily silent as Gwaine looked ready to attack. His men tensed, waiting for the command.<br/>
Something about this newcomer was different, but despite the sudden unnerving change in atmosphere, Bedivere squared his shoulders and faced the man. </p><p>“And who might you be?” </p><p>The man turned cold dark eyes to the knight, his long hair obscuring most of his face while a thick beard emphasized the humorless twist of his mouth.   </p><p>"Would you by any chance be offering yourself up instead?"</p><p>Bedivere hesitated, noticing the way the crowd was rapidly dispersing around them, terrified glances and whispers of what sounded like ‘sorcerer’ trailing behind. He finally took a small step back, confidence draining along with the blood from his face. "N-no...Sir. I was just-"</p><p>"Concerned about your criminal talking? Rest assured he won’t be speaking again until I see fit to relieve him of his life." No emotions crossed that face as his gaze swept along the assembled knights. "However, I do need him whole and untainted.“ He jerked his head to one side. “Close up that wound before he loses even more value."</p><p>At his command, another dark figure slipped silently out from behind him, dressed all in black garments with a deep hood drawn up over his head, enveloping and hiding his face.</p><p>The knights of Camelot shrank back as the man came to Arthur’s side, kneeling beside him and placing a thin white hand next to where the arrow shaft still stuck grotesquely from his flesh. His clothes were dyed red, and the liquid had even begun to puddle alarmingly.</p><p>Arthur’s whole body was trembling with the effort of keeping his eyes open, skin radiating with heat and burning him from the inside out. He looked up almost feverishly into the black hole within the hood, sure he was hallucinating as a pair of glowing golden eyes bore down on him. At that moment it seemed he was looking death in the face, and he tried futilely to will himself unconscious as the demon spoke. </p><p>No words he could understand, but a low sultry voice was suddenly filling his mind as if the man's lips were pressed against his ear, crooning an odd lilting chant. Arthur’s whole body shuddered, the sound filling his head like water, and sucking him helplessly around and around and down in a whirlpool. His vision turned in as the chanting grew in volume, a huge pressure squeezing his very insides until suddenly it was gone. </p><p>The world righted itself and the echoing song faded away, leaving him limp and dazed, ears ringing. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself on his back in the dirt, the hooded figure sill bending over him. </p><p>A collective gasp of horror and amazement swept through the onlookers as the man slowly sat back, tossing the bloodied arrow in his hands to one side. It was then Arthur realized he felt oddly whole again. Weak and on the verge of passing out, yes, but the pain was gone.</p><p>"What in the hells just happened?" </p><p>"Was that- <i>magic</i>?" </p><p>"The wound is gone!"</p><p>The mutters skipped around like butterflies unable to alight, but Arthur found himself unable to look away from the black pit that hid the man's face, those golden eyes all he could see, swirling and <i>alive</i>.</p><p>"Take his voice." Even before the tall man had finished speaking, the hooded figure was leaning closer, swooping down and blocking out the light as those pale hands now reached out to grip Arthur by sides of his head.</p><p>Then there were lips on his own, cool and warm at the same time, and they pressed against his mouth in the gentlest kiss before his whole body suddenly convulsed, back arching with a muffled cry as something deep in his core was lit on fire. It rose up through his chest, burning his throat and bubbling up to his mouth to pass through lips parted in a gasp of pain.</p><p>He tried to cry out in confusion and panic, unable to pull away as the hands held him solidly in place. Those lips pressed more firmly against his as the burning stream of something continued to flow up from within him. And his small sound of pained protest was cutting off almost before it could begin, snuffing out as Arthur felt a whoosh of warm air leave him all at once. </p><p>Something inside him <i>tore</i> and he screamed without a single sound passing his lips. His heart was suddenly thundering against his ribs and he shuddered, lying stunned as the hooded man finally pulled away. </p><p>Hovering impossibly in the air between them was the smallest glowing ball of light, shimmering and undulating with humming vibrations. Mere seconds stretched for eternity as he watched the floating light, entranced. It was so lovely...and seemed to be calling out to him. Then the hooded man was reaching out his hands, cupping the light as if he could take hold of it.</p><p>It glowed and pulsed stronger for a moment, rays of pale light filtering through his fingers and then he was bringing it up into the black hole of his hood, as if he meant to eat it, and when those luminous eyes closed, just like that the little light winked out. </p><p>Arthur watched numbly, his mouth dry and his throat achingly parched as if the light had seared away layers of skin on its path out of his body. His lips still tingled from the strange kiss, and he felt as if some part of him that he hadn't consciously known was there, something warm and as comfortable and precious as air, had been stolen from him. His voice. Was that even possible? Was any of this real?</p><p>Around them, the knights broke into subdued whispers, most of which sounded indignant or disbelieving. Arthur would have also liked to brush it all off as hallucinations since he was wounded and near death, but no... the wound in his side was gone, and he couldn’t seem to make a sound. Even with the evidence it was hard to believe.</p><p>Arthur’s head rolled to one side listlessly, his eyes falling on Mordred's face. The other was staring down at him, eyes bright and jaw set, and he wondered if Mordred was regretting what they were doing, if it was even his choice to begin with or if he was forced into it by the knights. He certainly acted plenty willing. He had always been eager to prove himself, had always given Arthur the impression he would make a fine knight if things had been up to him.</p><p>Did he really resent being his servant, being forced to leave their home? Could it really be that simple? Or was the promise of becoming king so great he would risk everything, not hesitating to betray his prince? He could already see defiance smoldering in the pits of his eyes, burning up the remaining guilt and fear.</p><p>"Months of searching, and that demon shows up now.” One of the men of Camelot hissed to the impossibly huge knight beside him. “This could be our only chance, Percival.” His sword was pointing unerringly towards the hooded man beside Arthur. </p><p>“Don't provoke him, Caradoc,” his comrade hushed urgently, “You saw what happened to the last patrol.”</p><p>"We should follow them, burn them alive in their den. Even sorcerers can’t survive fire."</p><p>Although they were speaking quietly and almost out of earshot, at their words the tall bearded man turned a single cold eye to the pair, a disdainful curl twisting his lips as he muttered something under his breath. His eyes flared gold for one horrible moment before fading back to brown.</p><p>The pair let out sudden cries of pain, both doubling over as Percival’s own arm curled back in on itself, twisting awfully until a loud cracking snap broke the hushed silence. The other wasn't so lucky, hands flying to his own throat as his face flushed a mottled red. He fell to the ground choking on nothing, body jerking helplessly as he was strangled by invisible hands.</p><p>The onlookers stared in horror at the men. Gwaine seemed to throw all caution to the wind to rush to Percival’s side, and Bedivere whirled to face the <i>sorcerer</i>, ready to lash out but for the terrifying look on that face that stopped him cold.</p><p>"On your knees." A cool hiss, and as one the knights dropped like stones. This man’s power was fearsome. "Bring the prisoner." He then commanded the hooded figure who was still kneeling silently by Arthur's side. </p><p>Fingers wrapped around Arthur's arms, hoisting him up with a strength belying the slender frame. He swayed on his feet as black threatened to overtake him. Without another word to the now subdued group of knights, the tall man strode purposefully away with not a care for the swords drawn to his back. The knights of Camelot parted hurriedly before him like water, their wary defensiveness spoke of prior experience, and Arthur’s realized he and his men had walked into this mysterious kingdom utterly blind.</p><p>He had no choice but to follow the pair as the hand clamped around his arm pulled him into step. He didn’t have the strength to pull away, knew there was not a man who would step up in his defense. As they passed the knights, the dark one called Lancelot watched him with honest to gods pity on his face, but he made no move to intercede. </p><p>Even before they were out of earshot, Mordred was demanding to know where they were taking him, and the responses did nothing to calm the rising panic within Arthur as he stumbled along, mind still stuck somewhere between being shot, and betrayed, and having his voice ripped forcefully from his very body. And now he was walking helplessly behind a sorcerer who apparently experimented and tortured men for a living. Not to mention the murderous demon whose eyes glowed with hell fire. That part at least, he had seen for himself.</p><p>Heart gone as cold and heavy as stone in his chest, he whirled around frantically to find the source of the voices, to demand they help him, to scream and shout out that it was all a conspiracy, that he was the Prince, but he couldn’t even pull away from the monster that dragged him along.</p><p>For one moment the spinning world seemed to still as his searching gaze fell upon a lone pair of eyes still trained on him. Mordred, eyes wide and blank, was staring at him with a horrible expression on his ashen face. And seeing that confirmation on his one-time friend's face, a cold flood of terror washed all else away as he realized he was as good as dead.</p><p>The demon wrenched him forward, spinning him around to be face to face with that black pit under the hood. He stared into those fiery eyes, knees going weak, before a sultry hum of syllables wrapped around his ears.</p><p>"<i>Bedrifan mec.</i>"</p><p>Something warm trickled down his spine like molten lava poured through the very marrow of his bones, branching and trickling its way through his whole body. And just like that he was moving, stepping forward as the figure turned and walked swiftly after the sorcerer.</p><p>Arthur tried to turn back, to break free and run as fast as he could the other way, but his body was moving as if not his own. His brain seemed disconnected from his limbs, and he was a tangle of racing heart and churning stomach.</p><p>All his life, so many years of dedicated training and getting back up after being knocked roughly down. Always ready and confident that he could protect himself because he had made sure he was strong. Now his only power, his strength, was taken from him. Here he was enchanted against his will. Here magic was real, and he was at their mercy.</p><p>They were soon moving off the main road and down a small dirt track that led back towards the forest edge, and Arthur’s heart sank within him. As good as dead had quickly and too easily become better off dead. </p><p>His head was spinning with all that had happened, his body sore and aching. What would Leon say if he'd been in his place? What would Leon do if he could see him now? But Leon would never ever know, or else he would hear of it much too late. Arthur had been sent too far away for the heir of the throne to follow, and it was turning out much worse than he'd foolishly imagined it could be. </p><p>They didn't remain in the woods for long. The trees soon thinning away until their path led across a wide gentle hillside. Chest high golden grass swayed in the breeze around them as if alive, stretching as far as he could see along the horizon in a sea of sun-warmed yellow. </p><p>Arthur followed still in the trance, the undulating terrain making him feel as if he were floating out of reality. Everything here seemed trapped under some sort of spell, and he couldn't decide if he should be afraid, or what exactly he should even be afraid of. He felt oddly calm and at peace, and although he still wasn't in his right mind, he could clearly remember that being weak gained him nothing. All was not yet lost. As long as the blood pumped through his veins, he could still fight this.</p><p>So immersed in gazing at the way that despite the riotous movement of the wind through the grass, everything was so silent as if sleeping, or dead, he didn't at first see the small house that materialized before them. It was a humble cottage of sorts, yet it sprawled carelessly across the yellow hills.</p><p>Arthur looked at it blearily, a dark spot amid the gold, not sure if now would be the last he'd see of the world. What were they going to do with him? He finally let himself ask the question, and couldn’t stop the sense of foreboding that rose within him as they drew closer.</p><p>The Sorcerer paused before the front door. His voice was flat and emotionless. "We begin tomorrow."</p><p>Then he was gone, leaving Arthur to stand stupidly beside the cloaked figure, the one who he feared really might not be human. The demon didn't even need to speak, Arthur still felt strangely compelled to just follow him, no <i>it</i>, around the side of the house where another smaller building sat in the back.</p><p>It pulled open the door and it was almost pitch dark inside, the light from the open door slanting in and illuminating a room that reminded him of the court physicians workroom back home. He'd never believed in magic or even heard of true sorcery before, but here was the workroom of a sorcerer. He struggled to breathe the air that was thickly sweet with something he couldn't ingest properly, and suddenly the odd dark stains, the ragged gashes in the wood of the table, looked horrifying.</p><p>"You'll see plenty of this room later.” His captor murmured, “Come now." It's voice was soft and oddly melodic, but devoid of any emotion. Nevertheless, Arthur heard the violence it promised with those words.</p><p>Arthur turned slowly, angry at being scared, angry that not only was he a prisoner but he was treated like an animal, unable to utter so much as the smallest sound in his defense.</p><p>At the end of a hallway there was a single door, opening to a single small room. A small barred window let a pale chunk of light in from up near the ceiling, and it did little to illuminate the room furnished with nothing but a straw bed and chamber pot.</p><p>Arthur stepped obediently inside as the other moved without a word to close the door behind him. Just like that, leaving him there alone in the dark.</p><p>As the lock clicked into place, the incredible, surreal calmness that had muffled his brain and controlled his body melted away, and he was struck dumb with the force of the panic and sheer fury that gripped him. </p><p>Whipping around, he threw himself at the door. He was shouting, cursing, beating himself against the wood, but no sound filled the room except his heavy breaths and the sound of his body thudding uselessly. He tired quickly, panting as he slumped against the door.</p><p>No, he had to save his energy. He had to center himself and wait for an opportunity to get his hands on some sort of weapon. There had been an iron poker by the fireplace, plenty of glass bottles that could make a sharp blade in a pinch. They thought they had a mere soldier, when they really had the best in the land. And he would not let them get away with this. He would fight till his last breath.</p><p>It was then as his measured breaths brought him calm rationality once more, that he heard footsteps moving away from the other side of the door.</p><p>And finally, now he was alone.</p><p> </p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p>Sleep eluded Merlin well into the early hours of morning. His mind was full of fierce blue eyes and golden hair. And there in his ear was a freshly made earring, a pair to his old one, and the secret he kept from his father in having it made him feel too nervous to relax into sleep.</p><p>He had left the prisoner in the usual room like he had so many times before, but as he turned to go had nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden crash of a body against the door. It shuddered in its frame from the force of the attack leveled upon it, and he found himself pressing a hand to the wood to feel its vibrations running up his arm. </p><p>Nothing like this had ever happened before. Despite his noble face, this man accused of attacking his own prince must be some sort of brute. The men his father bid him drag into this prison always, always cowered away from him in fear. It was always the first step down the well-worn path of how to break a mind, one look into his demonic golden eyes before being shut in the dark, and-</p><p>The sounds from the other side of the door suddenly stopped. Merlin hesitated before pressing his ear to the surface like any other fearsome demon would do in his place. There was nothing. He pulled away. He would get another chance to observe the man only too soon, and with thoughts turning to his other task he retreated back towards the workroom.</p><p>Pausing at the table, Merlin stood still for the moment it took for the other bodiless voices to come to life above him. He didn’t look at them. He could hear the newly stolen voice garbled and jarring against Freya’s where he had temporarily placed it for safe-keeping on their trek home, and suddenly he couldn’t bear for it to touch her and infect her sweet innocence. </p><p>He cupped his hand around his ear, commanding the thing to leave the confines of the stone, and he barely spared it a glance as he drew it away, intent on releasing it to join the others. The sudden shift in its resonance made him hesitate. </p><p>Looking down at the little bundle of magic, he was surprised at the ringing strength of its energy. It shone gold like the sun, and now that it was away from Freya’s he could hear it properly. And the sound of it: deep resonating laughter, the hushed notes of a fleeting song, a playful cadence lilting and dancing around his ears…and through it all, the strangest feeling which grew more and more clear, and he almost wasn’t sure how to name it. </p><p>It was as if he held a star in his hands, and miraculously it was promising to keep him safe. To protect him. And it just felt so incredibly noble, brave, and <i>good</i> he suddenly felt dirty for even daring to touch it. </p><p>Trembling, he watched entranced, as the little light flared and spun in place. If this was the truth of that man, his true essence, then Merlin couldn’t believe for a moment that he was a criminal. It was almost too beautiful to look at, and he was loath to let it leave his sight. He couldn’t- not just yet.</p><p>He practically held his breath when he snuck into the house later that night. The warm voice hummed in its place in the new earring piercing his right ear, the sound curling around his nape and caressing his cheek. If felt loud enough to disturb his father in the other room, and Merlin couldn’t believe himself, clasping his hand around the object to try and dampen its joyful, breathless chatter.</p><p>He lay stiffly on his pallet, staring at the dark ceiling, resisting the urge to let the voice out and watch it dance about the room. He just wasn’t sure he’d be able to force it back into its prison again. As it finally lulled into calm with a gentle hum of a melody, words garbled just at the edge of his comprehension, his mind turned yet again to the owner of said voice, locked away in his own dark prison.</p><p>It would be a lie if he didn’t dread what the next day would bring. Yet, he also felt the stirrings of something else. Curiosity, for sure. Excitement…most likely. It had been a long time, years, since something had managed to break its way through his carefully cultivated detachment. Anxiously, he drew it around himself like his ratty worn blanket and carefully counted his breaths until he felt a tentative emptiness settle within him comfortably. Nothing could hurt him like this. </p><p>But he wouldn’t smother that little spark of interest until after tomorrow, when he would see if this man was worth it. </p><p> </p><p>***********</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*****</p><p><i>Bedrifan mec.</i> = "Follow me."</p><p>P.S. Is the adj. form of Camelot...Camelotian? lol I have never seen it used before and is it just me, or does it sound pretty ridiculous? x_x. =_=. But, I tell you I was dying every time I had to write out "knights of Camelot" yet again. OTL</p><p> </p><p>*****</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p>
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<p>Merlin felt almost ill with both nerves and anticipation. The prospect of a chance to properly observe their prisoner along with the knowledge he'd probably have to hurt him, made his palms honest to gods sweat. He half imagined the knowledge he’d gleaned from the voice would turn out to be less than he hoped. He wanted to see that it was true. </p>
<p>The blue eyes that turned to look up at him as he opened the door were empty, almost placid. His heart sank. The way he sat quietly with no hint of the fiery life that had flooded his eyes yesterday completely contradicted the feelings that had sung to him all night from the voice near his ear.  </p>
<p>Instead, this blankness made him wary. It was a look he’d only see on previous prisoners after they were too broken to truly see reality anymore. Merlin actually took a step back in alarm when the man got to his feet fluidly, and then <i>willingly</i> moved to stand before him, as if offering himself. He seemed to be saying, <i>I’m not afraid of you. Try what you will.</i></p>
<p>His face was unreadable, but his actions showed him to be confident and in control. Merlin was confused.</p>
<p>This man obviously didn’t know yet what he was here for, and that must be the reason why he wasn’t cowering in fear. And for one thing, he should definitely be scared of Merlin: the one who was going to manipulate and use him, hurt him.</p>
<p>He hesitated, wondering if he should once again take control of the young man’s body, force him to follow his lead, but he seemed ready to follow Merlin without a struggle. Did he think that by not resisting they would hurt him less? Or else he thought that maybe Merlin would let him go? But that was something that was not his choice to make. </p>
<p>In the end, he supposed it would only be a matter of time before he too would break and succumb to his injuries like all the others before him. He was only human. And still, Merlin was confused.</p>
<p>Leading the way down the hall to the workroom where his father was already preparing the potions, Merlin felt more than heard the young man move into step behind him.</p>
<p>As they entered, a single dark eye flickered to glance at them, and Merlin bowed his head slightly in recognition of the command. He stopped, indicating the heavy wooden chair placed facing the fireplace, and expected the oddly complacent man to sit down.</p>
<p>But he didn’t move. He was standing frozen to the spot at the door, staring intently at his father, hands clenched and jaw tight. The sudden return of emotions across his face was a warning Merlin recognized a moment too late. The furtive glance he cast about the room was not that of a trapped animal, but rather a scan of possible weapons that could be used against them.</p>
<p>Then he was moving quicker than thought, long strides carrying him to lift the heavy iron spit leaning beside the fireplace all in one smooth, effortless movement. Then he was rushing on silent steps towards the unprotected back of his father.</p>
<p>The taught muscles, hands comfortable on the sharp stick turned weapon, the confident glint in his eyes, and Merlin knew before him was a seasoned fighter. He would know exactly where to strike, how much force he needed to end a life, and it was only too bad his opponents so easily had the upper hand.</p>
<p>All it took was a twist of a wrist to gather and condense air into a concrete bolt of power; it soared like an invisible arrow to strike between the man’s shoulders. He stumbled but just used the momentum to drop himself to the side to turn the fall into a deep lunge, lifting the iron spit at the same moment that his father turned in a whirl of black.   </p>
<p>A single hand raised and spat a harsh word into his attacker’s face. Their prisoner was effortlessly knocked backwards, flying through the air while the spit clanked noisily to the stone floor. His body met the wall and he crumpled like a rag doll.</p>
<p>Merlin stared at the fallen man in dismay, the jarring ringing of the iron still reverberating in his ears. His father’s eyes turned to him, dark and displeased.</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare let him go like that again.”</p>
<p>Merlin cringed, bowing his head at the sharp reprimand, knowing full well he should have subdued the man regardless of his apparently compliant state, knowing full well his mistake wouldn’t be forgotten. His father seemed to be in an unusually charitable mood, or else he already would have found himself crushed against the wall as well. </p>
<p>Barely daring to believe the punishment wouldn’t still come, Merlin shuffled over to where the man lay upon the ground. He was deathly still.</p>
<p>A slight prod of magic and he regained consciousness with a small shudder and a silent groan from split lips. Then his eyes rolled open, more white showing than blue, but it was enough for Merlin to be able to pull him to his feet and guide him to the chair where he sat heavily, slumping to one side.</p>
<p>He had foolishly misunderstood the lack of emotion as one already given to defeat, when he was merely biding his time until the moment he could strike. He couldn’t deny he found the display both interesting and exciting, something unexpected, and Merlin unabashedly stared down at the nearly unconscious man from the shadowed protection of his hood.</p>
<p>He took in the planes of his face, the cut of his jaw, the sweep of hair the color of a sun none of them had seen in years. His eyes lingered on the corded muscle of his forearms as he secured the ropes around his wrists, but as his fingertips brushed against the warm skin there, he gasped as gold flooded his vision. The pure energy spilling from his form in waves of light could only mean one thing. This man had magic. </p>
<p>Moreover, this magic was wildly ablaze with thick billowing heat, an imitation of a small sun. There seemed to be no end to it, and he had never seen anything like it. Granted he’d only ever seen Freya, when he hadn’t known what he was seeing, and snatches of his father’s when their skin touched, but he was certain this was something special.</p>
<p>Merlin was frozen with his fingers curling gently around those fragile wrist bones, soaking in the feel of its purity, unable to see or feel anything else for a moment as the ferocity of it took his breath away, made his heart race.</p>
<p>He had never had an opportunity to bask in someone’s magic like this and his body trembled with something he couldn’t explain, had never felt before. It was like hot fingers were stroking his skin, yet tingling as if going numb, and it sent something warm and uncomfortable rolling through his stomach. The vibrant beauty of it raged so impossibly, caressed him like sunlight, and he pulled away quickly as the feeling threatened to envelop him. He could easily lose himself within it, and while he knew that should concern him more, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of him. </p>
<p>The young man probably had no idea what he was, the power he emanated like a beacon. And although he knew his father would try his utmost to destroy it and break him, Merlin wondered if maybe just this once he might fail.  </p>
<p>Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Freya. She had been so young, a child, but held here just the same as all the others. She had also been nothing like the others, just like this man. The similarity being the magic, and Merlin was starting to get an inkling for why his father had rushed like a madman through the woods to retrieve him.</p>
<p>Innocent though he seemed to be, life wasn't fair. You took what you could, and if you were weak you were used and spat back out. There would be no escape from this room, from his father. He would probably die here. But something tugged at his heart as he gazed at the relaxed face before him.</p>
<p>There was a faraway look in the man’s eyes as he slowly regained himself. Merlin had never seen a man with such features, such beautiful eyes.</p>
<p>Every man they’d ever captured had had eyes as dark and unyielding as his father. The lived and breathed the cruelty in the world, and could only be broken by it in turn. And he’d brutalized and broken each and every one of them only too easily in the end. One by one. But these eyes were so full of life and Merlin didn’t want to break them. If he could, he thought he may want to keep them. </p>
<p>Pale eyelashes fluttered and then the man was focusing on him blearily, seemed to be searching for his face when Merlin knew he’d only be able to see his glowing eyes. There was a hesitant confusion on his features, as if he wasn’t sure of what he was seeing. </p>
<p>His father hadn’t wanted his face known, so it wouldn’t be. Merlin thought that his father enjoyed the way the dark mystery of his visage seemed to put out the last spark of hope in even the strongest of their prisoners. He was an inhuman monster to them, a demon shrouded in black with no pity or reluctance to harm and take. </p>
<p>For some reason he wanted this man to see him as more than a cruel hand that only inflicted pain. He didn’t want to be a demon without a face. He didn’t know if he could ever be just Merlin again, but those bright eyes staring at him made him long for it like never before.</p>
<p>He quickly turned his gaze away from that cautious scrutiny. He anxiously felt his convictions waver before the openness in those eyes, and he struggled to bring back the comfortable shield of nothingness.   </p>
<p>His father was also looking at the man, evaluating him from head to foot, as if looking for where he wanted to start first. The look was hungry, and the glint of anticipation in those dark eyes was one he knew only too well. He only hoped his own eyes would never flash like that. No, stop thinking. Stop feeling. He had to get control of himself. </p>
<p>"I need his name." His father commanded smoothly, and Merlin nodded wordlessly. His father seemed to be planning some sort of psychological curse, something for which he’d need to know more of this man’s identity. A mere name was more powerful than the average man knew, and Merlin couldn’t deny he was also eager to learn what his new object of fascination was called. </p>
<p>He turned away from his father and back towards the silently watching man as an odd sort of nerves pricked his stomach. He now had orders, an excuse to learn more about the man, but there was no sense of permission glaring back at him, now. He was stiff and frozen in his seat, held down by the ropes yet staring him down defiantly as if daring him to try something. </p>
<p>Merlin took a deep breath. There was no room for remorse or empathy, and Merlin had long ago trained himself not to feel such things. He was empty. He stood directly in front of him as he silently reached out his hands. Those eyes were so easy to read, throwing him off balance as they flooded with brief apprehension before they lit with bright sparks of anger. <i>Don’t touch me,</i> he seemed to be warning, and Merlin quickly shut his eyes against it. </p>
<p>It was better he do this, anyway. His father would be carelessly brutal, would cause so much damage. He couldn’t waver, he had to keep his composure and focus. Spells of the mind were only too easy to get lost in, to take more than one should, to break something on the way out. </p>
<p>He was too gentle when he placed his hands on either side of the man’s head, a sharp movement was all it took to dislodge them. Squaring his shoulders, he instantly reached out again, gripping his jaw as his fingers cupped his ears, and he felt the body beneath his hands trembling. He knew this man would be fighting him off valiantly if only he weren't so helplessly restrained.</p>
<p>Merlin held his face more firmly, ignoring the way warmth seeped into his hands as he began to chant, pressing his magic forcefully against the other's mind. The action was sudden and intense, his control slipping as everything about the feel and sight of the face upturned to his distracted him. </p>
<p>The trembling immediately stopped, body gone limp as his mind was invaded with such direct force it nearly knocked him unconscious once more. He could feel the man slipping away and he pulled back slightly, focusing as he coaxed him into a dazed trance, just susceptible enough to bend and search his mind as he wished.</p>
<p>He chanted and hummed, the magic filling his voice with low vibrations of power, and he closed his eyes as he sank into a jumble of swirling colors, blurry faces flitting before his eyes, everything melting and reforming into each other continuously. Echoes of words, music, laughter, tears, a whisper of great loss, pain, love, and he was entranced by the vibrancy of it. </p>
<p>And he felt he was close, so close...another faint echo rippling against him from far away, more voices, and amidst it all he heard a single word. It was repeated and echoed with the deep timbre of a male, the high tinkles of females, returning again and again as different people spoke as if into his own ear, telling him that single word was important. </p>
<p><i>Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.</i> </p>
<p>Faces flashed before him, none stopping long enough to form completely or to let him have a proper look, and though he wanted to delve further, see more of Arthur's life, his past and secrets, he'd already forced control over his mind for too long. He could feel Arthur fading farther and deeper into nothing as he continued to steal images from his memories.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, he retreated slowly. It was hard, he’d sunk much too deep. It was almost painful the way his mind clung to the thoughts swirling around him still, sluggishly backtracking through the muddle of sights and sounds. A warm embrace, a woman whispered <i>I love you, son</i>, glittering tears in blue eyes, a dreamlike white light shining from the dark sky onto a face filled with mischief.</p>
<p>Then he was rocking back into his body, sucking in a breath as if he'd been holding it under water the whole time. His chest rose, filling his lungs deeply as he gazed down at the face still cradled between his hands, at the hot tears that had spilled from the corners of Arthur’s closed eyes to be caught in his palms. The liquid burned on his skin, foreign and captivating in the way it sent a tight feeling lancing through his chest. It was hard to breathe all over again.</p>
<p>"Arthur." He breathed, voice catching slightly as he spoke. </p>
<p>Arthur slowly opened his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes like crystals, the longing and hurt he felt spilling out with each drop. </p>
<p>"Arthur." He repeated. <i>I see you.</i> </p>
<p>Arthur’s lips trembled with emotion as Merlin shared the remnants of those last memories still wavering within his own mind as if they were his own. He'd stolen more than just a name. He wished he could give it back. He felt like he’d done something so very wrong, something unforgivable. </p>
<p>He also wished he could just keep the name for himself, but his father was already speaking. "Arthur?" And the sound was all sharp edges, a predator readying to rip cruelly into vulnerability.</p>
<p>Behind him he could hear his father summoning a flame, the pop of the fire as he added various powders and liquids to it. He should return to his father’s side, but he was loath to release the face in his hands. He had no idea what he was feeling.</p>
<p>He’d seen more than a lifetime of suffering and pain, had inflicted it more times than he could even count or remember. And he could only live with himself as long as he separated from his reality. The echo of feelings that had invaded him through Arthur's memories seemed buried in his chest, and he couldn’t shake them away. He didn’t even know how to identify most of it, but he saw there was so incredibly much more than this life he’d experienced, and the scope of his isolation had never seemed so vast.</p>
<p>“Merlin.” His father spoke, drawing him out of his thoughts, and as his hands slipped from Arthur’s face, they hovered a split second as the urge to wipe the tears away took him by surprise.</p>
<p>He let his hands fall away, turning to his father as something strange nudged the back of his mind. There had been something...certain images and words, scenes which now that he’d pulled himself out of their confusing tangle, formed into a complete picture and a slowly budding truth before him. </p>
<p>Something was wrong. Something he hadn’t noticed the day prior when they first took him as their prisoner. But, he now had proof he wasn’t a criminal. He was something else entirely, and frowning, he flickered another glance back at Arthur who was already dry eyed and watching his father across the room with an odd fire burning his eyes. Now that he looked again, now that he had seen who Arthur was, everything suddenly made sense. </p>
<p>He wasn’t just bright like the sun, he <i>was</i> a sun. And how could it be that he was here now, sitting helpless before them?</p>
<p>Coming quietly to his father’s side, he cleared this throat tentatively. There was no way his father couldn’t know, but if only on the slightest chance he didn’t…</p>
<p>"Father...?” </p>
<p>His father gave no indication that he’d heard but Merlin knew he was listening even as he made the final preparations for his spell. It was a risk to speak without permission, but he felt this was too big to ignore should his guess be true. </p>
<p>“I think he's the real Prince.”</p>
<p>His father’s hands stilled, and he turned to pin him with dark eyes. They were filled with scorn. "Of course he is the prince. I have been waiting to have him for a very long time.“</p>
<p>Merlin’s heart sank at the revelation, the possible ramifications of laying a hand on royalty paled in comparison to the fact that his father had somehow <i>planned</i> this. A prince no one even knew was missing. Betrayed, abandoned, and left for dead by his own men.</p>
<p>He couldn’t stop his foolish mouth. "But.. shouldn’t we return him to the capitol?" His small voice was instantly overwhelmed by his father's sharp anger which made glass vials rattle and sing with the sudden change in air pressure. </p>
<p>"Watch your mouth.” He stared him down for a moment, a phantom pressure clinching around his throat for the briefest second before his father let him go. Nothing more was needed to let him know he’d overstepped his place the moment he tried to think for himself. “Finally, I can continue my research on the properties of royal blood." </p>
<p>Continue…? Merlin accepted the small glass vile his father held out, his intent only too clear even as he elaborated. “Make sure to use the silver knife. Use his arm and heal it after. Go fill that, now.”</p>
<p>It was unnerving to have those eyes intent on him while he cut and bled him, forcing his hands to be steady and to pretend that stare did not touch him. He couldn’t breathe easily again until he’d closed the cut, and hurried to return the blood to his father.</p>
<p>The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar fashion. He would take some blood and then they would mix it with some powdered herbs here, heat it and spread it across a crystal there, and as far as spells went his father only had him test the concoctions with his magic to deliberate their potency or if the mixture was mundane or magical. The large heavy tome his father now had spread on the table was one Merlin had never seen before, and the sheer volume of its pages intimidated him. They would bleed Arthur dry before they even got halfway through it, he was sure.</p>
<p>He should have expected the way Arthur refused to drink any of the water Merlin tried to give him. With the amount of blood they were stealing from him it was essential that he rehydrate, but Merlin was starting to see that he was not one to do as expected. Stubbornness was something he hadn’t been up against before and he hesitated over what to do until his father told him to hold him down and force it upon him. Arthur grit his teeth and spat what he could back out, most of it dripping down to soak his tunic, but Merlin kept at it relentlessly until he’d nearly drunk a whole goblet full.</p>
<p>The blazing hatred in his eyes throughout the ordeal made Merlin feel small, and he supposed he wouldn’t fare much better if he were being force fed something that could be poison for all he knew.</p>
<p>When his father finally called an end to the session, Arthur was pale and weak, head lolling sleepily, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel concerned when he barely responded to the ropes being loosened from his limbs. </p>
<p>When Merlin was sure his father was well and truly gone, he awkwardly slipped his head under one of Arthur’s arms to pull him bodily to his feet. He was heavy as he sagged against him, the warmth of his body bleeding through to Merlin’s side, and by the time they reached the holding cell Merlin felt rather overheated and flushed. </p>
<p>He maneuvered Arthur to the sleeping pallet, and lowered him gratefully, glad to put some distance between them and calm his racing heart for a moment. Arthur didn’t move from where Merlin had placed him and instead of leaving well enough alone, he hesitated yet again. Before he could think better of it, he knelt swiftly beside him and placed two fingers along the veins of one wrist.</p>
<p>A few whispered words and he unleashed a gentle tendril of magic to seep into the other, to speed recovery and give him back some strength. Arthur suddenly jerked under his touch, sucking in a loud breath before he was tearing his arm away. Startled at the sudden movement, Merlin also scrambled backwards, looking up to see Arthur’s face already returned to a healthy color, his eyes sharp and aware once more. He was staring at Merlin with a strange expression on his face, and he cradled his wrist to his chest as if it pained him, though Merlin was positive his magic would have felt like a trickle of warm water. </p>
<p>They regarded each other, Merlin with the clear advantage as his face was still hidden. When he didn’t make another move towards him, Arthur impossibly seemed to relax. It was such an unconsciously trusting gesture, and Merlin just didn’t understand. </p>
<p>He rose to his feet and backed out of the room quickly, locking the mystery of a man out of sight. He returned later, and three times each in the next two days to leave him food and water, and each time he pushed the door open to enter the room, Arthur was sat with his back against the far wall, his piercing blue eyes never leaving Merlin for a second. </p>
<p>He was, therefore, properly unprepared when he opened the door the third morning and was promptly seized by the neck and slammed so forcefully into the wall his head cracked painfully an instant before everything went black. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>++++++++++++++++++</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur could not believe that had actually worked. He stared down at the crumpled dark form at his feet, noting how long and gangly the limbs now sprawled awkwardly seemed to be. For a moment he was tempted to lift the hood concealing the demon’s face, but what did it matter how grotesque the creature was when he didn’t have any time to spare. This may be his only true chance at escape and he needed to run. Now.</p>
<p>He tried to muffle the sound of his boots as he crept down the hallway, heart caught in his throat at the possibility the sorcerer was currently in the workroom. If he was, this would all be for naught, and he refused to consider what might happen to him then. </p>
<p>Luck was on his side, and he rushed through the empty room to the door that led outside. To freedom. He broke into a run the moment he was out into the dim light of dawn, the fresh air cool and invigorating after so many days of being locked in a stuffy room. Rushing headlong out into the gently swaying field, he set his sights on the edge of it where the forest sat like a dark stain. He didn’t know if they would be able to track him, but he intended to lose himself amongst the trees as best as he could.</p>
<p>His body woke more with each pump of his legs, gaining strength and speed with each step. The rush of finally being able to move, to act, filled him with determination and he tried not to think on the way everything was so horribly and eerily silent, like within the depths of a dream, and it took him completely by surprise the next moment when he ran full tilt into <i>nothing</i>. The impact of his body against something hard and unyielding, threw him to the ground, his head reeling. </p>
<p>Through blurry eyes he stared in consternation at the emptiness in front of him. He didn’t understand what had just happened. Groaning silently, he pushed himself back to his feet, stepping forward hesitantly with one arm stretched before him like a fool. Merely two steps forward and his hand bumped against an invisible barrier. It was slightly warm to the touch, a disturbance in the air, and no matter how widely he ran both hands along it, how he pushed all his strength against it, it held firm. How was such a thing possible?</p>
<p>Here was his perfect shining chance to escape, and he was trapped by a wall he couldn’t even see. He jogged quickly to the right, his hand dragging along it as he went. Even without trekking the whole perimeter of the field, he was already coming to terms with the fact that there would be no opening, no way through or around it. He was trapped and literally powerless against it. <i>Magic.</i> </p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, and then another, Arthur finally turned his attention back towards the house he had fled from, his thoughts now racing to the range of knives the sorcerer used. It was possible the magic would fall if their caster were killed, and either way he would not be leaving this place as long as the man still lived. He would go back in and get the knives, he would have to hide himself and lie in wait and-</p>
<p>His frantic planning stumbled to a halt. </p>
<p>There standing in the doorway was a dark figure, hood pulled over its head, as silent and still as a shadow. Arthur stopped in his tracks, already halfway back across the expansive field towards the house. With the monster back to its senses, he realized there was no way he could willingly reenter that room, now.</p>
<p>It crossed his mind that this would turn into a horrid version of a game of cat and mouse. He could try to run but what was the point? He couldn’t get away and the demon knew it. He could come quietly and go back to his prison, but he refused to give in. Neither of them moved, and Arthur grit his teeth as he unconsciously settled into a defensive stance. He dared it, just dared it to-</p>
<p>A familiar trickle of heat slipped down his spine and spread like poison through his veins. Arthur screamed in frustration, the sound locked behind his teeth and he tried with all his might to stop his traitorous body from moving, but he knew it was a lost cause. The dark form disappeared back into the house, not even staying to watch as Arthur was forced under the enchantment once again. </p>
<p>He marched his unwilling way straight back to the house, passed the table full of vials of his own blood, and over to the corner where he promptly sat himself down in the torture chair. He seethed all the while, trying to dig his eyes into the flesh, if it had any, of the demon that was moving about the room collecting supplies. He calmly laid his arms along the armrests and then he was still, only able to breathe and watch as the cloaked figure flipped a few pages of the book open on the table before finally turning to come over to him.</p>
<p>He glared and narrowed his eyes as fiercely as he could given the circumstances, and he liked to think that the pale hands that reached to secure the ropes around his arms and legs, binding him in place, were shaking in fear. It was a fantasy he let play out in increasingly implausible anecdotes as he tried to distract himself from what they did to him that day.</p>
<p>He hadn’t known his own blood, when mixed with magic powder and spoken over in unintelligible chants, could <i>heal</i>, but he was nonetheless thankful when they applied a generous amount of it to the horrific bubbling burns they had callously opened on his bicep. And when had they cut his tunic away? His body was still warm and dripping with sweat from when he had shook from the pain, and it dripped down his sides, plastered his hair to his head before trickling into his eyes. If only he could free a hand to wipe it away, and how he longed for a drink of water.</p>
<p>He was not to have a respite until the healing salve was then tested upon a deep cut across his torso, and then, gods save him, a quick stab to the meat of his thigh. At least they didn’t cut his breeches off to get to it, and Arthur didn’t know why sparing him a little dignity meant so much, but he supposed he had nothing to help him through this but to focus on the silver linings. </p>
<p>Worst of all, he could still feel the lingering effects of the spell that cursed him to obedience, and he hated the relief he felt when at long last his body rose without his intention and walked himself down the hallway to his prison of a room. He shut the door behind himself quietly, heard someone fumble the lock into place, and then, finally he was himself again.</p>
<p>Arthur promptly sank to his knees in the middle of that filthy floor. He sucked in desperate breaths of air as his hands roamed almost frantically over the smooth skin where he had been wounded horribly just a few candlemarks ago. There was nothing there to indicate he had ever been burned or stabbed, nor was there any lingering stiffness or pain. </p>
<p>While the thought of a miracle salve that healed any injury was surely something any man would covet, Arthur’s stomach twisted itself into knots as he desperately tried to think of something else, anything else. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and he honestly couldn’t fathom which of the two would end up breaking him first: the torture or the loss of his free will. He was living in a nightmare and he prayed to all the gods he could think of that he could just wake up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*****</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur was left alone for over a week. After one long day spent wallowing on the hard pallet that served as his bed, tossing and turning as the torture he’d been through the previous day plagued him with phantom echoes of pain he no longer felt, Arthur roughly shoved it all aside and decided he would have to keep himself busy instead of languish with nothing to do but dwell on it. </p>
<p>He partook of the food and water they gave him every day, and then he spent hours training his body. He had never done so many pushups or crunches in his life, and he relished the burn of his muscles, the effort and work he put in giving him the same measure of strength as a result. He spent time running through drills as well, using a stalk of hay as his sword, and then refurbished it again as a knife. </p>
<p>It had only taken him a day to realize that the demon wasn’t allowing him even a chance to fight back again. When he woke from sleep to find his provisions sitting on the floor by the door for the third time, without any memory of falling asleep and definitely no memory of the demon leaving it, he concluded he was enchanted to sleep each time the door was to open. He looked for something to throw against the wall in his fury and barely resisted the urge to toss the chamber pot.</p>
<p>Five days into the isolation, and he felt so full of pent up frustration and energy that no amount of working his body seemed to release any of the pressure. He forced himself through his drills anyway, and then again for good measure, and he was appreciative of the progress he had made in just a few short days. He knew all the brawn in the world would be useless if he were hit with more magical compulsions, but he had taken the demon by surprise once. He knew he could do it again.</p>
<p>A few days later and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard the sudden juddering of the lock in the door. He was very much awake and it was time for a meal, which meant only one thing. It seemed he would be getting a chance to test that brawn again after all.</p>
<p>And really, it wasn’t a very intelligent demon since it fell for the same trick twice. He stood by the door as it opened, grabbing the thing by its shoulders and shoving it against the wall only too easily. The food and water crashed to the floor. </p>
<p>This time however, the monster somehow twisted to avoid the head bash, and thin arms were knocking his grip away. It was embarrassing how surprised he was at the response, and damn, but it wore some kind of metal bracelet that had struck his wrist. He couldn’t even feel his left hand through the tingling of nerves, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t fight through.</p>
<p>He surged forward again, gripping it by its tunic and slamming it back into the wall again, and again, and each crack of skull should have been hard enough, surely? Though, maybe that hood was padding it and while he wildly wondered why it hadn’t yet used its magic on him, he took the opportunity to pull back his arm and punch it right in that black hole of a face.</p>
<p>It dropped like a stone without so much as a cry of pain, but Arthur didn’t waste a moment to kick it in the torso. He drew back his boot again, planning to kick it in the head, when hands shot out and grabbed his ankle, twisting and sending him crashing to the ground. The next moment it was on top of him, golden pits of hellfire blazing down from beneath the hood as it drew back to strike him. </p>
<p>Arthur tugged at his arms which were pinned by its knees, ripping them free too late to block the blow, and- it <i>slapped</i> him. It hardly even hurt. Arthur easily caught the hand that came at him again, and it was like taking ahold of ice. Unable to shake his grip the other hand swung at him instead, and he caught that one, too. It was as if it didn’t know how to hit someone properly, like it had never fought before. At least not without magic.  </p>
<p>He didn’t know why it was holding back now, but if he could properly subdue it, he could drag it to the magical barrier and make it let him pass. It was the only plan he could come up with.</p>
<p>The form above him, while tall, was actually quite light, and it took little effort to buck his hips and roll them over until now he had the demon pinned to the floor. He pressed its wrists to the dirty ground and almost quailed with how close it brought his face to those eyes. The coldness of its skin seemed to be seeping into him from the point of contact, and he couldn’t feel his hands anymore, his arms starting to go numb with it.</p>
<p>It struggled beneath him, weak and helpless, and <i>why</i> didn’t it strike him down? It unnerved him and he had to be sure he truly had power over it. His hands moved to the thing’s neck, and it was shocking how warm it was against his chilled fingers, how much it felt just like any other neck. A pulse pounded against his palms as he squeezed slowly. He didn’t want to kill it, if that was even possible, but he didn’t even blink as its hands came up to pull frantically at his. He held firm, the ugly choking sound filling the room so like that of a man’s, and Arthur grit his teeth. </p>
<p>The demon tore at his hands, at his sleeves, then tried to claw his face in desperation, as the body beneath his spasmed and shook horribly. Arthur’s resolve wavered but he didn’t release the pressure, wondering if it would be enough now to just haul it by the throat outside. Then in its wild flailing, it managed to knee him in the gut, knocking the air out of him with a surprised huff, and he curled forward reflexively, his face pitching down into the thing’s collarbone. </p>
<p>The skin there was warm too, and the smell of brimstone and hot ozone filled his senses. The small sound it made as they crashed together was caught in his strangling hold, but it sounded something uncannily like fear.</p>
<p>The next moment it was as if he were plunged into icy water, breath catching and air freezing in his throat. Before he could even comprehend it or try to push himself off, the demon’s body shuddered and suddenly heat was churning up from deep inside him, flooding his body and pressing up through his skin to the surface. </p>
<p>It pulsed out of him in waves, the coldness receding before it. From freezing to burning up all in a matter of seconds and for a moment he was too stunned to even react. His hands had fallen away from the choke hold as the magic consumed him. </p>
<p>It had finally resorted to sorcery, and Arthur felt sick as it coursed through him like blood through his veins. He couldn’t stand how it felt <i>wonderful</i>, like basking in the sun, like tingles of arousal deeper than he’d ever felt, and suddenly the demon was latching onto him, its arms curling tightly around his waist and pulling him down flush against it. </p>
<p>He couldn’t find strength to pull away from the euphoric feeling. It trapped him there as a face was turned to press intimately into his neck, and he sagged in its hold. For all the creature’s coldness, the breath caressing his skin was surprisingly warm. It seemed to be soaking up the heat that it drew out of Arthur’s body, clinging to him like sick parody of a lover, and he felt dizzy as if it were blood leaving his system rather than the heat that seemed to pour from his very core.  </p>
<p>The demon’s arms tightened even further, holding him prisoner against itself as Arthur’s vision swam, body now weak and unresponsive as each wave of light churning through him was torn away. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t move away, and he could feel himself fading. The thing was draining him, <i>feeding</i> on him?, and blearily he felt the way those thickly hot breaths against his skin were now cold enough to send shivers down his spine. </p>
<p>For all the warmth it was stealing away, the body beneath his felt so cold. Like a corpse. </p>
<p>Blackness began to cloud over his eyes, sponging away all color, and he was unable to feel his body any longer. There was nothing but the terrifying sensation of himself getting sucked out. There was a muted ringing in his ears which muffled the soft breathy moan that ran along the skin of his neck.</p>
<p>He felt hollowed out, sinking towards nothing before suddenly the body beneath him jerked. A garbled string of words pressed into his skin like icicles digging sharp, and as he was flung through the air bodily, the blinding hot fire within him was abruptly and horribly extinguished. </p>
<p>Crashing to the floor some paces away, he swooned as his heart labored heavily, so slow that he feared the next beat wouldn't come. He felt as if had been struck in the chest with a mace of pure ice, and he struggled to breathe knowing nothing but cold for the next few excruciating minutes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>++++++++++++++++++++</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin’s panting gasps were the only sound in the suddenly silent room, catching in a chest that was trying to remember how to breathe air once more rather than pure energy. He tried to calm his racing heart, slowly becoming aware of being contained once more in a physical body. The air was hot and stuffy but each breath seared around the ice that seemed to coat the inside of his throat. He shivered uncontrollably. </p>
<p>Slowly he was coming down from the intense feeling of being overtaken by golden magic, filled to the brim body and soul with nothing but pure bliss. Arthur’s magic had enveloped everything, so warm and deliriously sweet, like fire caressing every inch of his skin. He had lost his hold on reality as everything inside him ached to take it. And then it had taken it.</p>
<p>He hurt everywhere, a bone deep cold that pierced down to his very core. His bound magic was swirling about a place that was frozen and infinitely gaping open. Like something had been torn from his very center. </p>
<p>But he had done <i>magic</i>. Even with the bracelet around his wrist, he had done magic. It had burst from his mouth in a rush of cold syllables that froze his throat on the way out. He hadn’t done it on purpose. It was nothing he’d ever heard before, nothing his father had ever done, a language he didn’t know nor could ever remember learning, and he hadn’t the slightest idea where it came from.</p>
<p>When Arthur had attacked him at the door, his movements had been so sure and deliberate. A trained knight who knew he was stronger than his opponent, and without magic to protect him it had been terrifying. He could do nothing to block the blow that had left his ears ringing and stars in his eyes, hadn’t been able to free himself when he was crushed to the ground while above him Arthur was so strong, hot and alive and dangerous. Ready to kill him. </p>
<p>He had thought he was going to die. He had been unable to breathe with those hands so calmly squeezing his throat, his intention clear in his expression, and in his last efforts to <i>live</i>, somehow they had crashed together. Then the sudden bloom of Arthur’s magic had blanked his whole vision white.</p>
<p>He had fallen into it helplessly, too weak to resist and had sucked the magic from Arthur like a monster. It had been so warm until it was suddenly so cold, each pulse of magic turning to ice in his veins and it was <i>agony</i> even as he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. </p>
<p>It was so vast and impossibly strong, had beckoned for him and made him go blind with the instinctive need to take it. The touch of their skin had resonated deep within him, something primal, and he had craved nothing more than the golden heat of Arthur. </p>
<p>Then Freya’s shadowy voice was screaming in his ear and he knew he couldn’t <i>do</i> this again. The next moment a bolt of pure ice had left him, knocking Arthur easily away and severing their connection. It had been wild magic. He didn’t think it could possibly be his own. It had felt…wrong, and all he knew was that it had hurt dreadfully. He didn’t understand.   </p>
<p>When he finally could breathe around the ice clutching his throat, and a semblance of warmth began to return to his chilled limbs, he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Then his eyes fell upon Arthur and he forgot everything else.</p>
<p>He lay as if dead. Merlin felt sick, light headed and weak. He swayed dangerously, hands falling to the ground to support himself as he gasped for air that was suddenly hard to come by. Not again. What had he done? He clenched his eyes tightly closed, as if blocking out the sight would make it untrue, would undo it all. </p>
<p>He felt adrift, something had been forced from him without his consent, something breaking free on its own power to strike Arthur down cruelly. He just hadn't wanted to die. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what it had done, and he was all too rudely cast back to the small terrified child that had first attempted to cast a curse he didn’t understand. He had done something else entirely, and could only remember the blood splattering everywhere. It didn’t matter if he didn’t mean to, they were still dead by his hand. It was yet another time he couldn’t control his magic and it killed. And he was so scared.</p>
<p>His eyes came back to rest on Arthur and he bit his lip, afraid of what would happen when they touched but needing to know. He reached out with trembling hands and brushed skin that was cool to the touch, pressing fingers into his neck to seek out the pulse the growing dread tight in his stomach said he wouldn’t find. He couldn’t bear to lose him like this. Not like this. </p>
<p>But it was there. It was fainter than it had ever been before, but as soon as he was sure of it he snatched his hand back. He was terrified he’d try to steal his magic again, that the nameless power hiding dormant within him might rear itself once again and attack. His body had gone weak with relief, <i>He’s alive. I didn’t kill him</i>, and giving into the urge to check once more, he sank down to press his head against that strong chest to hear each infinitely slow, faint heartbeat.</p>
<p>The sound was calming, drawing him in like soft hands pressing against his body, a feeling so close and intimate that everything else faded away all at once. It was soft yet steady, thumping into his head, thumping into his own chest that felt stuffy and tight. </p>
<p>He still felt so cold. It wasn’t just his hands, now. There was a lingering aching pain in his chest, something hard to identify or pinpoint exactly where and how it hurt. Somewhere deep within, where his magic was. It was like a jagged lump of ice. It felt like when he’d killed Freya, and he thought this might be the price of stealing magic, of stealing life. He thought he might be freezing from the inside out.</p>
<p>Merlin slipped into a daze as he listened to Arthur’s heart, his eyes tracking motes of dust that floated in the light spilling in through the window. While it was too weak to provide much warmth, they lay directly beneath its path, and he noted distantly how Arthur seemed to be regaining his warmth remarkably fast. As if the light of the sun was recharging the magic he’d lost. It was a nice thought.</p>
<p>The body beneath his head shifted, and Merlin dragged himself up to look down at Arthur. He breathed a deeper sigh, pale eyelashes fluttering, then his eyes were opening and blinking blearily as he immediately found Merlin leaning over him. His eyes slowly roved Merlin’s face, a line of confusion between his brows as he stared up with a gaze that was deep and soft. The open expression on his face was captivating.</p>
<p>Then their eyes met. Arthur was looking at him as if he truly saw him, and now he felt as if he were bathed in sunlight. The world faded around them until nothing but Arthur existed before him. He swore he could feel each beat of his heart stuttering into life as it struggled to tell him a secret. And he felt everything depended on him understanding what it had to say. </p>
<p>Then Arthur was smiling slightly, a hesitant curl of his lips, as if offering some sort of truce and Merlin suddenly realized that his head was bare. Arthur was seeing his face. In their struggle his hood had fallen to his shoulders, and now Arthur was <i>seeing</i> him, judging him, and Merlin felt scared in a way he’d never experienced before. </p>
<p>He skittered backwards, hands scrabbling with the fabric to tug it up around his head once more. He had hid behind the thing since he was a youth, and having his face exposed made him feel young and vulnerable again. And just like then, he had no magic to protect himself, no strength to best this warrior, and he couldn’t do anything but run away.</p>
<p>He staggered to the door, hands shaking violently as he fumbled with it, struggling to find enough strength to drag it closed. To hide his mistake behind it. To lock it out of sight. The world tilted dangerously, and he sagged against the wood as it finally clicked shut, much too quiet of a sound against the crowd of noise filling his mind. His fingers were already moving to turn the lock. Rusty and bent, but still sliding into place with the same finality as always.</p>
<p>He shuffled down the dark hall. Each step and breathing became a little easier, strength returned to his legs, and the numbing white noise in his head faded. Each step and he was forcing himself to believe he wasn’t locking an ugly secret away, but merely done delivering food to the prisoner.</p>
<p>The new chill clutching his magic lingered deep within him, festering, waiting, even as he opened the door to his home. His father was there near the hearth, looking down into the pot simmering there.</p>
<p>He felt nothing. He had managed to suppress it all during that infinitely long journey down the hallway, had struggled and succeeded in recapturing the emptiness that used to be his everything. </p>
<p>But still the tiny prick of coldness wouldn’t leave him, and his eyes locked on the sharp lines of his father’s shoulders from the back. His father knew what he’d done to Freya. He knew Merlin was able to drain people of their magic with a mere touch, even while he couldn’t access his own, apparently. He wondered if he already knew what Merlin had almost done to Arthur.</p>
<p>He tried to push down the sudden need for direction, a word of comfort, anything to help him keep his head above water. And he wanted it from the person he’d learned to never, ever reach for. He took a deep breath before lifting his foot and taking the smallest step forward.</p>
<p>His father turned to face him with his usual easy slow grace, his back as straight and tall as always. Merlin froze under the suddenly golden stare that was directed at him, a rush of magic swirling around him. He shivered as the heat of it shied away from the coldness in the pit of his chest.</p>
<p>His father’s magic retreated, and then he was moving across the room lifting a large hand to cup Merlin’s jaw. His palm was like a brand against the cold skin of his face, and his stomach flipped as he became unerringly aware of his father’s magic, like an animal after blood. He was glad when his father promptly drew away.</p>
<p>“You’re cold.” He murmured. </p>
<p>Then without another word of explanation, he turned towards the door, his eyes already far away on some bit of research. Before he crossed the threshold, he sent one last look at Merlin, and Merlin stood like an idiot for long minutes after. For the first time in years his father had smiled at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>********************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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<p>aaaaand I just finished writing this WHOLE thing. :D :D !! <br/>Sorry for the wait. ^3^~  Will be posting as I edit each chapter.</p>
<p>p.s. I'm not sure if I should be doing warnings on each chapter(?) cuz honestly I'm not sure how to rate parts of this, but please check the tags because I'll start a chap out mild and then suddenly it turns all crazay on me. :B </p>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That first glimpse of the demon’s face was burned into his memory, all pale skin, high cheekbones and an air of whimsical fey beauty beneath waves of ebony curls. His lower lip was split and swollen, and Arthur remembered distantly that he had punched him in the face. His blood was as red as any. </p><p>And those golden eyes with no bottom glittering back at him had looked so empty and sad set in that face. </p><p>Far from a deformed, faceless, demonic monster, the face before him was imperfect yet beautiful. He was shocked by how innocent it looked, despite the countless horrors he’d suffered under those hands, and he stupidly thought that such a face could never hold true cruelty or hate on it. </p><p>He felt a spark of hope then, for it was one thing to be enslaved to a demon, and quite another to a mere man. Maybe he could find a way to win his trust, to get him to release him, and he tentatively tried out a smile. </p><p>But the demon, no, <i>man</i>, he was just a golden-eyed man, looked back at him with growing fear, scrambling to cover himself and Arthur had no idea why hopeless tears came rushing to fill his eyes.</p><p>It wasn’t until after he was gone, door once more locked behind him, that he remembered the sorcerer had called him Merlin. And if he had been named after the falcon, then Arthur couldn’t shake the impression that he was a bird with its wings clipped. </p><p>He wasn’t sure if it had all been a dream in the end, because he didn’t see him again, hooded or otherwise, for days upon days. </p><p>The monotony of his imprisonment was broken once a day by the sorcerous father instead. He was taken to the torture room and used like an animal. It was what those eyes saw him as, merely a thing to be studied and picked apart, and he’d never felt so dehumanized as he was under this man. </p><p>The sorcerer always wanted more of his blood, and he was neither as gentle nor as adept at healing the cuts he opened as Merlin had been. His arms ached where they had been bled over and over, but that had hardly been the worst of it.</p><p>Arthur was starting to see there were different levels of aptitude and control even within the impossibility of magic. </p><p>Where Merlin had been detached and almost clinical, his magic had never been rough or careless. It has seemed as natural to him as breathing compared to the way the sorcerer struggled through his spells, oftentimes repeating them endlessly to even glean the smallest of results. </p><p>The way he had Merlin subjected to his command started to take on a new light as Arthur observed the man who had such a greed for knowledge and control, yet little power of his own with which to accomplish it. </p><p>He wondered where Merlin was and why the sorcerer wasn’t ordering him about like usual. Then he remembered the feeling of Merlin stealing away the heat from his body and he was glad he was nowhere to be seen. </p><p>Only to change his mind once again and wish for his gentle hands as the sorcerer couldn’t seem to completely end the spell that had him choking on mist that filled his lungs with water. He spent the night unable to sleep, coughing up water and laboring to breathe. He feared his body wouldn’t be able to withstand it and it was the longest night of his life.</p><p>Over the next week he was introduced to the horrors of inhaling the smoke of mixtures red with his own blood. Thankfully, breathing the fumes seemed to cure the blight on his lungs, but it was little comfort as the sorcerer then tried to test its efficacy by trying to suffocate him in increasingly inventive ways.</p><p>It only made sense that the week after that was centered around poisoning him, making him bleed internally, crushing the bones within his body, and then forcing him to drink potions that tasted of blood. </p><p>He wondered dully what the man would do should the potions ever fail. Would he be able to heal the damage before it killed him? </p><p>On some days he couldn’t help but wish it would.</p><p>He was starting to lose sight of why he still needed to fight and resist. It was taking all his energy just to survive one day at a time, and the growing longing to escape, whether that be through death instead of freedom, sat heavily on his mind like a weight he couldn’t seem to shake. </p><p>Never had he thought he could be broken like this. </p><p>And then he learned that this was nothing. It was impersonal and scientific, it wasn’t about him at all, but about magic. It could have been any other royal in all the kingdoms of Albion for all the sorcerer cared. </p><p>For the most part he was left alone, was fed, and allowed time to heal and rest so long as the sorcerer had access to his blood and body. It was nothing at all like the purposefully cruel abuse he witnessed the next day.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++ </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin had stayed up half the night, as he was doing more frequently of late, trying to get the healing salve just right. </p><p>While it worked wonders when the blood was freshly drawn and used immediately, it seemed the potency of it faded with each day. He spent hours reading through different texts and trying any and all spells that could possibly help preserve or encapsulate the power of the mixture. </p><p>While he still didn’t enjoy using warm <i>blood</i> as a main ingredient, he couldn’t help but become immersed in his study of the qualities and properties of the healing salve. </p><p>It was wondrous and he felt alight with the challenge of trying to understand it, to perfect it. He knew his father wanted reliable results as soon as possible, and Merlin threw himself into the research with an intensity he hadn’t felt in a long time. </p><p>He hadn’t been back to the workroom for nearly two weeks, now. His father had taken off the magic restraint and given him instructions on what he wanted from the salve, then left him to it. He didn’t know if his father would have released him so soon if not for the fact that he needed magic to complete his task.</p><p>He had also sent him out to check on the crystal that controlled the weather. </p><p>The tree it was buried in had predictably been dying. Each time he visited, he could see the sickness in it, the branches that had withered and now stuck like dried limbs from its body. It wouldn’t last much longer. Not even with the boosts of magic he’d been pushing into it, trying to draw up more life from the soil to sustain it. </p><p>In a way he was glad it was coming to an end, that there was nothing he could do to prevent it. </p><p>He missed the blue sky. He missed the rain. The whole kingdom probably missed it more than him, and this time when he saw the blackened bark and the rotting roots, he didn’t try to save it. </p><p>His father spent nearly every day locked in the workroom. Merlin didn’t know if he was using Arthur or not, and he tried not to wonder, tried not to care, tried to think of nothing but the work. It was hard when a fresh vial of blood sat on his worktable every day after he came back from checking their hunting snares at noon. </p><p>It was difficult to keep his mind from straying to blue eyes and blond hair, to strong hands and that magic spun of pure sunlight, when the voice whispering in his ear never left him alone. </p><p>He knew his father wouldn’t ruin him, that he was too valuable. He guessed that the reason he was confined to the house was because he’d almost killed Arthur. His father was right to keep him away. </p><p>He hummed along absently while he worked, a somewhat sad little melody he had grown used to hearing waft in an echo of Arthur’s voice each time he lay down and relaxed towards sleep. It was becoming a comfort to him as he’d never heard such a lullaby in his short life, and he was only too easily becoming attached to it. It always seemed to float to him through the thin layer of consciousness right before sleep took him, and it soothed the heat of his magic with a wintry touch like patterns of lace icing over a still lake. </p><p>It made him long for something he couldn’t quite grasp, and always he fell asleep before he could figure out what it was. He wondered what the song was and wondered if he would ever hear Arthur sing it truly.</p><p>The isolation and his avid study of the healing salve was cut short the following week as his father informed him the next spell he would implement was marked out in the book. Merlin was to prepare the prisoner and ready the ingredients while his father went to collect an item that needed to be harvested fresh for its use in the spell. </p><p>Merlin woke earlier than was his usual, crunching through the grass as he made his way to the dark workroom. </p><p>It was a shock to see Arthur after so long, looking weary and quiet, but despite the new shadows that haunted his eyes he still seemed healthy and strong. </p><p>The expression that crossed his face when he saw it was Merlin and not his father, was one he couldn’t decipher. It made him feel ashamed for some reason, and he tried to keep his eyes from lingering even if Arthur couldn’t see. His heart still skipped a beat when Arthur tried to catch his gaze, the look on his face so cautiously earnest. </p><p>He wouldn’t be tempted.</p><p>He soon led Arthur to his usual chair. While he tried to be gentle when tying the ropes about those strong arms, arms he knew could easily snap him in half, he was careful to make them secure and always let a twist of magic seal the job. It wouldn’t do for Arthur to break free, either to accidentally hurt himself while under the thrall of a curse, or to attempt another foolish attack on either Merlin or his father. </p><p>Somehow, he didn’t think Arthur could resist another go if given the chance. </p><p>He tried not the think on how it felt when they last fought. Violent hands that overpowered him and crushed his neck so easily. And after, the way it felt to lay his head upon Arthur’s chest. </p><p>He tried not to think on the closeness, the intimacy, even though it had been one-sided. He failed. </p><p>Merlin sighed as he paged through the book on blood magic until he found the spell his father marked. His eyes trailed down the list of ingredients without pausing to read the details of what they would do.</p><p>The next few minutes he spent gathering powders and jars of bits of things preserved in brine. The list was rather grisly, and he tried not to breathe in the stench of the frog’s eggs as he dropped them quickly into the congealed morass of bubbling potion. He wondered if perhaps they had spoiled. It wouldn’t be the first time.</p><p>As he came to the bottom of the list, he guessed that the freshly drawn water from a spring that faced north must have been what his father went out to retrieve, he wondered why he hadn’t been sent on such a menial errand instead, but lost his train of thought as he realized he hadn’t actually understood the last ingredient he’d read.</p><p>The heart…of a virgin, or a child? </p><p>He read it again. And once more in disbelief. His fingers gripped the sides of the book so tight his knuckles stood out white. </p><p>So then, that final ingredient must be what his father had gone out to precure. Surely. It’s not like they would have one of those just laying around. His father probably wouldn’t trust him to go out and murder the right person without supervision. But then, it didn’t specify it had to be fresh, and he felt sick.</p><p>With growing trepidation his eyes moved towards the small block of text that depicted the effects of the spell. With each word the nausea grew until he was nearly panting with the effort of keeping it in. He clamped a trembling hand over his mouth as he struggled to find his composure. What was even the point of such a curse? </p><p>What purpose would there be in melting someone’s organs just slowly enough so that it would be hours before they finally died? Excruciatingly slow and painful, a torture only the darkest of hearts would even contemplate. It was mindless and evil. </p><p>Why his father would even see the need to ‘test it’ at all- and gods, he meant to use it on Arthur. To melt him from the inside, and then what, hope a potion mixed from his royal blood would magically heal him? </p><p>Merlin was not confident in the full range of effectiveness of even just the healing salve yet, let alone a potion which included so many more options and variables. There was still so much he didn’t understand about how the healing properties of the blood actually worked, how exactly the intent behind the magic combined with it could have such different outcomes, and how would one even go about seeing the effects internally, and- and Merlin-he couldn’t-   </p><p>He was curled over the worktable, gasping wetly into his palm, and even through the horror he felt a rising sense of urgency. His father expected this to be ready for him when he returned, he didn’t have time to fall apart like a child, he had to ruin this potion before he came back. </p><p>Breaths still ragged, Merlin turned to regard the supply shelves with panic starting to close about his chest. Where would his father keep a human heart-?</p><p>A shuffling noise from the side of the room made him jump, spinning around to see not his father, but Arthur, just sitting in his chair watching Merlin with a frown. His brows were drawn and the look on his face, while confused, was also concerned. </p><p>Merlin realized he had nearly been sobbing through his panic attack. He sucked in a shuddering breath, and forced himself to drop his trembling hand from his mouth.</p><p>Arthur couldn’t see his face, not with his hood up, and he knew he didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t owe Arthur anything, but found himself stuttering out an excuse none the less. “This spell. I can’t- I won’t do this spell.”</p><p>It was something he’d never once said to his father, didn’t think he could utter again if his father were standing here now, but saying it out loud solidified his decision and he spun around to start hunting frantically for the missing heart.</p><p>The impending arrival of his father was like a suffocating pressure on his chest, he knocked aside jars and upturned baskets, rifling through carefully labeled and stowed ingredients in increasing frenzy as he began to think that he was wrong and his father would come walking through the door with a flask of water in one hand and a freshly bleeding heart in the other- when his eyes fell upon his father’s large wooden chest.</p><p>It was the one thing he had never opened. Not that he didn’t have permission, but because inside of it also lay the bracelet. </p><p>The heart was in there, he knew it.</p><p>Without hesitation he moved over to the chest, held his hand above it as his magic unlocked it with a thought. </p><p>He tried not to look at the bracelet once the lid swung open to unleash tendrils of ugly cloying magic, but he couldn’t help but run his eyes over it in something close to fear. He still feared it even after being subjugated to it regularly over the years, and again so recently.</p><p>It was almost physically painful to take his eyes off of it, as if it would leap out and clasp around him if he turned his back. But after a quick perusal of the other contents, he found what he was looking for and tentatively reached for the jar with what couldn’t be anything other than a heart floating in magically enhanced potion.</p><p>Now that he had it, he wasn’t quite sure how to go about getting rid of it, and he turned helplessly on the spot. </p><p>Arthur was still there, eyes big and blue as they looked from the thing in Merlin’s hands back up to his glowing eyes. Next to him blazed the fire. </p><p>With a thought, Merlin charged the fire to white hot in a matter of seconds, and he strode over to it. Gingerly holding the jar out, he contemplated whether he needed to open it first or should just toss the whole thing in, when the shivering of the wards around their home announced the arrival of his father. He had run out of time.</p><p>With another blast of magic to make sure the fire would burn through anything, he cast the foul thing directly into its fiery embrace, throwing his arms up to shield his face as it nearly exploded upon impact. </p><p>With a great whoosh of gold, the jar and its contents were incinerated, and as the hot light of the flames faded back to a more normal orange, Merlin turned away as he retched helplessly. </p><p>For a single moment, when the heart had burned to ash, he had felt something. A dying wisp of magic. He knew that magic. His stomach rebelled again and he gagged as his continued vomiting produced nothing but bile. </p><p>It was the first magic he had ever felt, the one he had stolen, and he closed his eyes as he bowed his head, tears spilling helplessly down his cheeks. He should have known. </p><p>Freya’s little voice crooning in his ear made him feel sick enough to die, and there was no way he would get out of this one. He couldn’t even pretend to care what his father would do to him, and he didn’t look up as the door creaked open and the man himself came into the room.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>If he had words, the scene he just witnessed would have stolen them all away. </p><p>It had all happened so fast. Merlin had been preparing for that day’s spells and torture as usual, and he really had no idea how he could think so casually about such a thing, but then the next moment the man had started hyperventilating. The harsh sound of his distress was so loud in the small room. </p><p>He was shocked by the sudden emotion, the humanness, of the man who'd hardly twitched when torturing Arthur before. </p><p>When Merlin told him he wouldn’t perform the spell before promptly tearing the room apart in his frenzied search for something, Arthur couldn’t help but feel that before him was an entirely different person than before. Although he couldn’t see his face at the moment, and despite those ever glowing eyes, he remembered the surprise of seeing how young he was. How human. </p><p>His actions right now told of a man who still had some good left in his heart, who still knew and cared about something that was wrong.</p><p>Arthur didn’t need to know what spell he’d seen in the book to know it must be terrible. His experience here had shown him that the rumors were right and that the sorcerer seemed to enjoy torture as a pastime. No, it was more like his profession. </p><p>He had heard Merlin call him father, and he supposed that having a mad, evil sorcerer as a father could turn even the most innocent child into a…monster. He didn’t want to call Merlin a monster anymore. </p><p>Not when he was drawing out what seemed to be a very human heart in a jar and marching over to a suddenly blazing inferno of a fire, not even hesitating to throw it in. Not when he collapsed on himself, retching and sobbing, and Arthur felt sick himself just observing the unbridled distress the man showed now.</p><p>Then the door was opening, and he realized things were about to get a whole lot worse as the sorcerer came into the room. </p><p>He paused near the door, dark eyes sweeping the utter destruction of his workspace, lingering for a moment on the potion that was still bubbling atop the table. Then he took in Arthur in his chair before his gaze fell on Merlin still trembling and choking in a pathetic heap in front of the fire. </p><p>Chills raced down Arthur’s back when he saw the man work out what had happened in the matter of a few heartbeats. That Merlin had purposely sabotaged the spell. </p><p>He expected him to be angry, he just hadn’t realized what that would look like.</p><p>Arthur flinched into the back of the chair, unable to distance himself from the scene before him, unable to tear his eyes away nor close his ears to the pure fury coloring the man’s voice.</p><p>“What have you done!” </p><p>He strode across the room and ripped away the heavy cloth that concealed Merlin from the world. Sinking his fingers into black locks and jerking the man’s head up roughly, he seethed down at him, the sight of his stricken, tear-streaked face seeming to only intensify his ire.</p><p>“How <i>dare</i> you defy me.” He dropped his hand from Merlin’s hair to backhand him across the face. </p><p>Merlin practically went flying, crashing into the sturdy wooden leg of the table which shook with the impact. The potion spilled over the edge of its pot, sizzling like acid as it crossed the surface, and where it met delicate glass vials filled with Arthur’s blood, they shattered. </p><p>The noise of it was merely background to Merlin’s pained groan, and he lay there stunned before he all too quickly pushed himself up. He swayed as he moved to kneel before his father who watched him almost impassively, the raging fury he’d wielded now held behind a calm façade. He was even more terrifying like this.</p><p>Merlin merely gazed at the floor, his face still wet but wiped eerily blank of all its previous emotion. It was as if he was waiting for what came next, docile and submissive to whatever punishment, whatever <i>abuse</i> his father decided upon. </p><p>It was all starting to form a certain picture for Arthur, and his heart threatened to thunder its way out of his chest.</p><p>The sorcerer stood rigid, head cocking nonchalantly to one side as he purposefully rotated the large iron wrought ring circling his middle finger around until the sharp cut edges of the diamond patterns inlaid there were aligned with his palm. Both Arthur and Merlin watched him. He flexed his fingers experimentally, seeming to admire the piece, before his jaw clenched and he took a handful of Merlin’s tunic. He brought his hand down hard upon that upturned face once, twice, thrice.</p><p>Arthur winced at the sound of it, at the cry of pain from Merlin as he was then cast to the ground. Arthur had seen much more violence than this in his time as a knight, blood and gore around him and inflicted by him, but there was something different about seeing a father strike his child, even if that child be grown. Anger burned in his veins, chest feeling tight with it as he watched, helpless to intervene. </p><p>Merlin lay on the ground for a while, blood running down the pale skin of his face in the path of his previous tears, while those luminous eyes seemed vacant. From his position, Arthur couldn’t tell if the blows had broken anything. </p><p>Merlin’s father didn’t give him another look as he was turning to rummage in the large wooden chest that Merlin had found the heart inside. When he pulled out a small silvery bracelet, Merlin let out a whimper. </p><p>He was curling into himself now, eyes trained on the object his father held. Arthur recognized it from the day he’d attacked Merlin, when he’d first seen his face.</p><p>“Get up.” The man grit out, and Merlin scrambled to obey. </p><p>The sorcerer stared down at him, silently demanding something which Merlin seemed to be struggling to comply with. He growled at him impatiently, “Don’t test me, Merlin,” and the younger was promptly lifting his arm, offering up a thin, pale wrist while his face crumpled in defeat. </p><p>When it clicked around his arm with a pulse of gold, the bit off sound of his anguished scream made everything so much worse. </p><p>So, this man tortured his own son as well. Arthur didn’t know what the bracelet was doing to him, but he couldn’t see anything but a man wracked with pain. </p><p>At the moment, he almost couldn’t remember that this was the same person who had cut him and burned him, had hurt him repeatedly over the past month. He was beginning to see that he might have had no choice. Well, there was always a choice, but it took a strong man indeed to stand up to someone who held all the power, especially a parent, and as far as he could tell Merlin was alone here.</p><p>The sorcerer was moving around the room now, carelessly tossing objects and ingredients about as he gathered some items into a small bowl. He lit it aflame with a flash of his eyes, then poured in a vial of Arthur’s blood. The concoction plumed with black smoke before congealing into a thick sort of paste.</p><p>By this point, Merlin had gotten to his feet and was standing subdued beside the table, his head respectfully bowed. The red still dripping down his face glinted in the firelight. </p><p>When his father turned to him, demanding he ‘take it off’, Merlin apparently didn’t move fast enough. By the time he rose from the floor after the next strike, Arthur was begging in his mind for him to just do what he was told. It was a new sort of torture to watch someone be treated like this and be unable to help. He thought the both of them had forgotten he was even there.</p><p>As Merlin tugged off his black tunic with shaking hands, Arthur wondered why he didn’t fight back with his magic. He was clearly powerful enough, had had no problem using it to subdue and bend Arthur helplessly to his will, but he lost his train of thought as a slender torso was revealed. </p><p>His body was covered in a patchwork of strange black tattoos, while his ribs stood out awfully. Arthur thought he’d be able to count every last bump on his spine, and it was yet another sign of the abuse he suffered in this place. He had no idea how this man had knocked him to the floor before, if not for using his magic, he was skin and bones.</p><p>The sorcerer set his bowl down upon the table and looked at his son. “It seems it is time for you to see what runes can do when invoked with royal blood. I had planned to save it, but you displease me greatly.” His voice was so calm and matter of fact, “Don’t ever forget that I own you.”</p><p>With those horrible words, the sorcerer suddenly swept his arm across a good half of the table, sending the contents crashing to the floor in a riot of color and explosions. He paid it no heed as he promptly grabbed Merlin by one thin arm and manhandled him over to the table, lifting him slightly to then slam him down on his back atop it. </p><p>Merlin didn’t resist, seeming lost in his pain, his head rolling slightly to display a face devoid of anything.</p><p>His father held him there with one hand while the other dipped into the paste, and he chanted in that unknowable language as he painted strange markings across the skin of Merlin’s chest. They overlapped and clashed with the black already there, and as he worked the paint started to glow faintly with a dark burgundy light. He finished with a flourish, and then brought his hand down to rest above Merlin’s heart.</p><p>A pause, then his fingers curled and Merlin screamed like he was dying, arching off the table. </p><p>And Arthur couldn’t even think because sudden pain exploded in his own chest, iron claws constricting about his heart and <i>squeezing</i>. He thrashed and shuddered against his bonds while Merlin convulsed and sobbed loud enough for the both of them. </p><p>Another clench of those fingers and bruises bloomed to life across both their chests, the pain was unbearable and with each pause before the next crushing squeeze, Arthur struggled to breathe, to not bite or choke on his own tongue, and his mind could comprehend nothing but blinding, endless pain.</p><p>They were both trembling and half delirious by the end of the session. Arthur struggled to blink away the black creeping his vision. If Arthur had to suffer the same pain as him, the least he could do was not pass out and leave Merlin alone in this. Whether Merlin realized it or not didn’t even matter.</p><p>The sorcerer released his son at last, and without that grip holding him down, Merlin tried to curl into himself protectively. It was awkward with the way his long legs hung off the table, and his muscles seemed too weak to support him as he half slid, half fell to the floor. </p><p>He hunched forward with his face pressed to the dirty surface and didn’t move.</p><p>“Do not leave this room until everything is put back in order.” He nudged Merlin with one boot, his face set in stone. </p><p>There was no response and Arthur wondered if he were even conscious. He held his breath as the man’s gaze flitted over him for a moment, before finally turning his back on them and moving towards the door. </p><p>Right before he opened it he paused, slanting a look back at the figure huddled on the floor. “You will be the one to perform the ritual when we go to replace the heart you so foolishly burned.”</p><p>The door had hardly closed behind him before a low plaintive sound came from Merlin. His voice was so hoarse his sobs were nearly silent, and Arthur clenched his hands into fists as he could do nothing but sit there. His body ached, his head ached. And his heart throbbed at the thought of Merlin being forced to cut someone’s heart out. </p><p>The hours slowly trickled passed, and Merlin eventually rose like a dead man to begin attending to the room. </p><p>Arthur’s eyes tracked his stilted movements. He saw the way those bloody runes had seemed to burn his skin raw before he covered them with the tunic he retrieved from the wreckage. He saw the way his mutilated face started to swell and darken with bruises. His eyes returned again and again to the ugly bloom of color peeking through the torn open front of his shirt, and he vowed then and there that if it was the last thing he ever did, he would see the <i>end</i> of that evil monster. </p><p>As for Merlin, poor Merlin- he would set him free.  </p><p>When Merlin finally made his way over to Arthur to release him from his binds to the chair, Arthur could see everything that passed over his face as his fingers fumbled and the ropes refused to fall open. He wondered if the reason Merlin wore that hood was not to dress up like some fiery eyed demon, but that he literally couldn’t seem to keep his emotions from showing on his face. </p><p>The eyes he turned to Arthur were nearly stricken, and Arthur couldn’t remember how he ever thought him to be heartless. </p><p>“They- they’re bound with magic.” He croaked in explanation, shaking his head slowly as he pleaded for Arthur to understand. “I’m sorry- Arthur- I <i>can’t</i>-“ And he held up the wrist encircled with the silver bracelet, and Arthur let out a slow breath through his nose. Oh. So that’s what that was. </p><p>He bit his lip, trying not to show how he felt about being left in this chair overnight or longer. How the knowledge that it would have to be the sorcerer to release him filled him with dread.</p><p>“I’ll stay with you.” Merlin whispered, and he sank to sit on the floor right there beside him, turning until his back rested against the chair, one boney shoulder pressing against the outside of Arthur’s leg. </p><p>The small innocent touch was comforting after the day they’d shared, and Arthur stayed awake long after Merlin fell into an exhausted sleep. </p><p>When his head slipped from its place on the chair arm to rest upon Arthur’s thigh instead, he couldn’t seem to stop watching the way the fire flickered and lit upon the long, exposed expanse of his throat. He noticed the way his ears poked through his mess of curls. He probably would have the graceful line of his profile memorized by the end of the night.</p><p>Merlin had called him Arthur. It was nice. Maybe he was starting to see him as a person, not a prisoner, just as Arthur was now seeing him for what he truly was: a gentle soul who wore apathy like a protective shield. Now that shield was broken, and Arthur felt the growing compulsion to take its place.  </p><p>Later, in the early hours of morning, Arthur peeled open sticky eyes, back stiff and loudly protesting his slumber in a hard-backed chair. He wasn’t sure at first what had woken him, but a small golden glow below him drew his attention to a small jewel earring peeking through a lock of black hair. </p><p>The sound coming from it was warm and familiar, snatches of a song about stars and moonlight that Arthur’s mother used to sing him to sleep before he grew too old for such things. It sent an unexpected pang of pure longing through him, heartsick for home, for his mother and Leon. Even for his father for all they butted heads. </p><p>His fingers twitched against the chair, still tied but aching to reach out and touch the glowing gem, to pull that sweet feeling out of it and into himself, or else to let his fingers fall upon that face now vulnerably turned towards him in sleep. </p><p>Instead, he could only trace the soft smile on Merlin’s sleeping face with his eyes, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d seen that was more beautiful.    </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin didn’t even know how many days it had been since he’d been locked in their tiny cellar. His father hadn’t put him down here since he was very young. Back when each command to maim or torture made him ill, unable to close himself off and just act. His father had seen that the bracelet itself wasn’t enough of a deterrent and had used this place. </p><p>It had always worked much too well. The boy that emerged from the dark pit was always an empty shell, one who did what he was told. One who’s heart had forgotten how to feel.</p><p>It seemed that this time his transgression was large enough to warrant such a punishment, but he didn’t regret it. He was glad he had set Freya free at last. He was glad he had saved Arthur a round of meaningless torture. Even though he had still been hurt so horribly in the end, at least it wasn’t under Merlin’s knowing decision to comply. </p><p>However, while the torture hadn’t been by his own hand, he wasn’t sure if having his body used as a magical conduit instead wasn’t the same thing. He had still taken part in hurting Arthur. The skin all around the left side of his chest was aching and tender, and he couldn’t soon forget the pain of his heart shriveling within him. </p><p>Now, he had endless hours in which to contemplate all the things that had gone so wrong recently. All of his mistakes. The way his magic was breaking inside him.</p><p>He also had endless hours to spend on attempts to get Arthur out of his head. Futile efforts to try and forget the beautiful fire of blue eyes, the feel of his strength. He tried to force himself to stop craving him, stop wanting to touch him again, to simply just <i>see</i> him again. </p><p>He couldn’t help from yearning for things he didn’t deserve. Things such as holding Arthur close enough to literally feel his heart beat against him. Things such as releasing Arthur’s voice so that he could <i>hear</i> him. Things such as kissing him, not because he wanted to steal anything from him, but because he <i>wanted</i> to. </p><p>But he knew it was impossible for someone like him. If they ever were freed from here, Arthur would be king and Merlin would be executed for his crimes. Merlin would make sure of both of those endings, for he knew it was the only way this could be put right. </p><p>Trying to ignore the other did nothing to lessen the sweet irresistible lure of him. If anything, such forced seclusion only made him long all the more. Almost unbearably so. </p><p>He took much comfort from the warm whispers of Arthur’s voice, even while listening to its meaningless babble somehow made him feel even more alone. </p><p>Worse than that anything else that had happened, though, was that blot of cold deep within him, and he fretted over how he could possibly keep it repressed if not work out a way to defeat it. </p><p>Curled upon himself, a dark shape inside an even darker space, he barely moved as he battled with himself for hours. </p><p>The cold was relentless and trying to resist its power was slowly turning out to be one of the hardest exercises he’d ever had to do. He forced it down time and time again, losing himself in deep mindless meditations in which he let himself float so completely into nothing that he lost all sense of himself. It was the only time in which he could no longer feel that cold presence and it sickened him that he couldn’t seem to be rid of it while he was conscious. </p><p>It was increasingly daunting as it easily evaded his feeble attempts at smothering it. He didn’t know if having his magic unbound would even aid him as it seemed too strong to contain. </p><p>He wondered what his father was doing to Arthur. He needed to be there to ensure it didn’t ruin him. </p><p>He just wanted to see him.</p><p>It was so dark and cold with nothing but his fear and the aching cold within him as company. He hated it, feared it, wanted to crawl back to the time before it had come into existence. He wished Arthur had never come to them, even as he wanted him so badly it was slowly driving him mad. It didn’t help that the cold also wanted Arthur's magic with that wild desperation that overwhelmed all else.</p><p>He was half frozen and unable to form any coherent thoughts by the time the lock finally rattled in the door. </p><p>He flinched at the jarring sound of it, listening as if half in a dream as the door swung open. Footsteps echoed oddly in his dizzy head and he fervently wished they would just go away and let him die like this. He didn’t even want to be released anymore. </p><p>His muscles seized up suddenly as a warm touch pressed against the back of his neck. His eyes flew open before wincing in the light that streamed down into the hole, knowing it was his father even if he couldn’t properly see him. </p><p>It was as if the touch had given him a charged shock, one made entirely of magic, and Merlin began to tremble as the <i>cold</i> responded. The hand drew away.</p><p>“Get up.” He said, waiting for him to comply. </p><p>He followed his father out of the cellar, the wan light of the dawn still so bright against his maladjusted eyes. His father handed him bread with cheese, and a water skin, before he set off across the field, and Merlin stumbled tiredly after him. </p><p>They walked and walked, through the forest and out beyond it to pass by the farms and homes of the nearest village. Following the road towards the city, Merlin expected they would turn off it to some other destination, but was mildly surprised when his father didn’t stop nor hesitate. </p><p>They were going to the capital. </p><p>Any other time Merlin might have been excited at the prospect, eager to see something so grand that he’d never been allowed before. Now, he was simply exhausted from his brief imprisonment, the bind on his magic sapping what little strength he had while the crush of his inner torments made it hard to look and see the world around him.</p><p>The world was decidedly grim, anyway. The magic he’d been working for years had stolen the color and vibrancy out of everything, and he saw the poverty and sickness that plagued the land, from the sparse crops and the patched homes to the skeletal hounds in the streets and the hollow-cheeked people.</p><p>His father strode through it all, back straight and unconcerned. He didn’t stop until they had ascended the steps leading to a lower level of the walls surrounding the brilliantly white citadel. They followed it, not running into a single guard or knight, before they moved into the castle itself. </p><p>No one apprehended them, no one seemed to even see them, and Merlin supposed his father was ensuring it was so. What they were here to do, he had no idea, nor care to know. His father needed his magic for something, and the sooner it happened and the sooner he could be done with it, the better. </p><p>As it turned out, they were there to spy on the King of Camelot himself. </p><p>He was sat in the great hall with his council, speaking in low monotone voices that echoed around the stone expanse eerily. There was a gallery above and to the end of the hall, and here his father did strike down the sentries standing guard. He was silent and swift in his execution, and Merlin turned away as the men drew their knives and took their own lives.</p><p>From their spot in the gallery, hidden in the shadows cast beyond the reach of the feeble torch light, Merlin stood and waited for what was to come. </p><p>His father seemed to be listening to the debate below, but it wasn’t long before he beckoned Merlin forward. His hand once again came to his nape, and Merlin could feel his iron ring cool and sharp against his skin. His face smarted at the thought of it, but he knew his father only intended to take his magic from him this time.</p><p>He took so much of it so quickly that Merlin swayed on his feet, the flickering light making him twice as dizzy as his father commanded and pulled his magic from him. Merlin didn’t resist, it was all he could do not to try and offer it up willingly. He hoped that his father would take the icy part away as well.</p><p>Dimly he was aware of the meeting breaking up, of the nobles leaving one by one. Then it was just the king, and that was when is father started his spell. </p><p>He didn’t even try to hide the sound of his chant, it resounded through the hall, echoing off the walls and back to them as if multiple voices spoke all at once. The king had leapt to his feet, his sword drawn as if he could fight back the magic with the power of steel alone. He searched the room frantically for the foe to fight but he couldn’t find them where they melted into the dark.  </p><p>The spell reached its peak and then his father flung out his hand, the finger’s on Merlin’s nape an iron vice, and the magic exploded in a brilliant flash of white, the afterimages a piercing blue like lightning had struck. The air smelled scorched, and the flames of the torches climbed up the walls as if alive.</p><p>Merlin fell back against the wall weakly when his father released him, feeling the vibrations of magic juddering along his veins roughly. Whatever it had done, it was an ugly curse. </p><p>When his eyes cleared, he could see the king was now slumped across the council table while his father gazed down at him with something cruel twisting his face. He didn’t know if he’d just helped his father commit regicide, something so unforgivably huge turning into something small and insignificant without a single witness to their treachery.</p><p>He didn’t look at anything but the back of his father’s boots on the way home. It had been so very long since his father had started directing his magic for his own purposes, but it never got easier. </p><p>Merlin never stopped feeling responsible, never stopped feeling guilty for holding such destructive power within himself. Yet at the same time, he was too weak of mind to stand up to him or stop it from happening.</p><p>There was someone there, out in the field, as they approached their home. </p><p>His father didn’t seem concerned, even as it meant his wards must have failed, and with his magic bound and senses blunted Merlin hadn’t thought twice as they passed through them. He squinted against the glare of the overcast sky, making out a glint of something gold and his heart skipped a beat.</p><p>Arthur was outside. Why was Arthur outside?</p><p>A furtive glance towards his father gave him no answers, as the man retired to the house and didn’t look back at him once. If Arthur had been granted the freedom to roam outside it was only by his father’s will, and Merlin hesitated for all of three heartbeats before he gave in and went towards him.</p><p>Arthur was just standing there in the grass, his hands brushing the tops of the feathery plumes, his face tilted up towards the sky with his eyes closed. Looking for all the world like he was basking in sunlight, when there was none to be seen. Yet seeing him out here after so many meetings in a dark firelit room, and Merlin saw how truly vibrant he was. </p><p>He made no effort to conceal his approach, and soon those blue eyes cracked open to regard him steadily. A small, but open smile crossed his face and Merlin swallowed heavily. </p><p>He was unable to stop the response of a smile threatening on his own face but dropped it when the attempt made the stiff mass of bruises across his cheek twinge painfully. It wasn’t like Arthur could see him anyway, and he wasn’t sure he could bear to show his face after the atrocity he’d just committed. Arthur wouldn’t smile at him if he knew. </p><p>“He is allowing you out?” He asked hesitantly, knowing he wouldn’t get answers from his father even as Arthur couldn’t explain it to him either. </p><p>Arthur nodded, his expression growing serious. His eyes fell to Merlin’s chest, and his question was clear as he gestured to the area over his own heart.</p><p>Merlin lifted a hand to rest atop the spot. He didn’t need to say anything, knew that Arthur still felt the ache and pull of it as well. They were no longer connected with the power of the blood runes spent, but neither of them would be healed for many days yet. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He whispered. </p><p>The words had been plaguing him for weeks. He meant them for so much more than just the bruises around his heart. He hoped Arthur understood. The look on his face indicated he just might. </p><p>Merlin’s voice dropped even lower, his heart beginning to race as he continued, digging the heel of his palm into the injury to try and stop its quaking. “I would set you free.” The truth of it pained him. Just as the impossibility of it shamed him. </p><p>He was under no illusions, he knew he was just as much a prisoner as Arthur, the metal around his wrist physical proof of it. He couldn’t even allow Arthur through the wards without his magic, otherwise he thought he would have already let him go. He never thought he would find something he would risk his own welfare over, but if he knew anything now, he knew he would do it for Arthur. </p><p>The other man nodded his head, accepting his intent even as his lips formed a thin line. They both knew how useless such words were because the next day Arthur would be strapped into a chair and Merlin would be told to hurt him again. He knew he wouldn’t refuse, either, not when his father got what he wanted either way. If he was obedient he could at least try to spare Arthur anything extra, anything unexpected. </p><p>His eyes flit around the field awkwardly, not knowing what to say or how to have a conversation, especially with a man who couldn’t respond. Arthur didn’t seem to mind. He just watched Merlin for a while before jerking his head over his shoulder in invitation, gesturing for Merlin to walk with him, of all things. </p><p>It felt strange to walk beside a man, rather than trail behind, and Merlin kept stealing sideways glances at him from under his hood, heedless of the stalks that tried to trip him in his inattention. There was another smile lifting the corner of Arthur’s lips, and Merlin wanted to know what he found so amusing. </p><p>He was getting the impression that Arthur would be loud and full of humor in other circumstances, that the confident expanse of his broad shoulders and the fierce strength in those arms would be a sight to behold if he were to have a weapon in his hands. </p><p>They walked the perimeter of the field, along the invisible line of his wards, and he noticed the way Arthur began to trail his fingers along it as they went, as if he could feel it. He hadn’t realized it could be touched like any other object, but then again maybe the touch of magic could make it so. He had never thought to try. </p><p>Merlin slowed to a stop, considering for the first time what it meant that Arthur had magic. </p><p>The man should be able to use it as well, if given the proper instruction. It made something timidly hopeful unfurl in his stomach at the idea of opening Arthur’s eyes to it. To show him that magic didn’t just hurt and destroy. Merlin’s own magic was ruined and warped into a weapon, and he didn’t think he could ever cleanse himself if the icy monster he was turning into was any indication.</p><p>It was too late for him, but Arthur’s was still so pure, as wild and free as nature intended it to be, and he could only think of how beautiful Arthur’s creations would be. He no longer had any reason for any of those frivolous, pretty spells he loved as a child, but the feelings such magic had given him were wrapped in memories that were still precious to him. </p><p>He wanted Arthur to know that, to feel it for himself. </p><p>Decision made, he reached out to tap the barrier Arthur was still touching a few paces ahead of him. It vibrated gently, a rippling hum radiating from his touch. Arthur turned to him curiously, and now he mirrored the motion of earlier, jerking his head over this shoulder. Arthur huffed in amusement, lips forming around words Merlin couldn’t hear. </p><p>Merlin led him towards the house, then around to the back of it where the garden lay. Merlin still kept it carefully through all seasons of the year as they needed the food, but it was simple and mundane, an extra chore rather than a place for magical exploration. Pausing, Merlin suddenly felt self-conscious as he started to doubt himself over what he was about to do. It would expose a small part of him that had died long ago, but he felt that maybe it might be a little like rebirth if he could give it to Arthur instead.</p><p>He indicated the wall of the house, the whitewashed stone there covered with the sprawling imaginative pictures of a child. The colors were faded and in many places rubbed completely away. It was dingy but surprisingly well preserved given that no rain or snow had disturbed it ever since Merlin had commanded the weather.</p><p>“Place your hand just there?” He began awkwardly, showing Arthur the golden colored figure that had once been his most prized, magnificent dragon. Now, it looked more like a mangled blob of a monster than anything, and Merlin bitterly thought that to be fitting. </p><p>It had always felt like the most exciting secret when he’d figured out a way to put the spell of movement into the drawings and lock it within the dragon. All he’d needed to do was then poke it with a little magic and speak the spell for the whole wall to come to life. He wasn’t sure if the spell still held or if it would work properly with so many of the images near ruin. </p><p>Arthur moved beside him slowly, taking his time to study the swirling colors and shapes, his head tilting as he seemed to try and work out what he was looking at. He didn’t hesitate to put his hand on the dragon, though, and then he turned to look over at Merlin with the quirk of one brow. </p><p>Merlin let out a breath, suddenly too nervous to take up with that pointed expression. It probably wouldn’t work right away, if it did at all. He didn’t expect Arthur to be able to do full out magic his first try, but since this was merely the awakening of a trigger that was already in place, he thought it probably would-</p><p>“You just need to push your magic through your fingers.” He was near stuttering, and Arthur now had both eyebrows raised, mouthing something that looked like ‘my magic’ back at him. “And then say these words-” Merlin broke off as he remembered Arthur couldn’t speak. </p><p>He was an idiot and the look Arthur was giving him now said he heartily agreed.  </p><p>Merlin flushed, glad for his hood, and shook his head. “Just- say it in your head, then.” He said lamely, telling Arthur the spell. </p><p>Arthur looked back at the wall, then back to Merlin, obviously thinking him crazy, but he didn’t pull his hand away.</p><p>Merlin twisted his hands in his tunic. “It probably won’t even work anymore.” Merlin started rambling, “but I thought that if you could touch my wards, that you could probably feel the magic I put here. It just needs a little nudge to make it work, and I know you probably never even knew you had magic, but you do, quite a lot actually, and if you just sort of direct it with your mind, you can-“ </p><p>Arthur suddenly stumbled backwards in shock as the wall burst into riotous life. Merlin gaped at it, then turned to gape at Arthur whose eyes were wide, his whole body tensed and ready as if to fight. Arthur couldn’t seem to look away from the magic unfurling across the wall, and Merlin couldn’t look away from Arthur’s face. </p><p>The shock was melting into open wonder, quickly followed by growing delight as he watched the dragon soar and the unicorns prance. </p><p>Merlin had spent so many days on this project, had worn the pages of the magical bestiary thin with all the times he’d gone through it. He had poured all his longing for even a glimpse of one such fantastical creature into the art and into the animation spell, and the way Arthur took such pleasure in it now felt like a gentle balm on a heart now disillusioned with magic.   </p><p>Arthur reached out again, his hand following the path of the kelpies that frisked in imaginary water, and where he touched, they glowed gold. He knew Arthur would feel it tingle against his skin. </p><p>As if feeling his gaze, Arthur turned to look at him, the wonder on his face now settling into something a little confused, a little sad. </p><p>Merlin shifted his feet. “You can put it back to sleep. Just touch the dragon, and- with your magic, just- the spell is <i>swefe nu</i>.”</p><p>He wanted to tell him he could come here and release the magic anytime, that Merlin wanted him to have it. He wanted to compliment Arthur for getting the magic to work so quickly, to thank him for being so gentle with this little piece of his past. The words all stuck in his throat. </p><p>They sat together in front of the mural, Merlin offering Arthur a cucumber he tugged from the vine nearby. Arthur bumped his shoulder with his own as he accepted it, and Merlin bit his lip to try and contain his smile. </p><p>If he had had his magic right at that moment, he knew he would have done something ridiculous like grow Arthur a strawberry patch, or even something more grand like a whole apple tree, to properly express the gratitude he felt for this man.</p><p>Arthur’s shoulder came to press against his again lightly, and then he didn’t move away. He didn’t return the dragon to sleep until the light started to dim around them, and Merlin remembered the other duties he should have been attending to, not to mention the hunger gnawing at his insides after his time locked in the cellar. </p><p>Merlin hadn’t yet risen to his feet as Arthur moved away from the now dark, still wall. Merlin looked up at him, mourning the end of this moment. Then Arthur was reaching down to place his hand atop Merlin’s head, and Merlin could barely breathe as the touch lingered for a long moment before he turned and made his way back towards his cell of a room. </p><p>Merlin watched him go feeling lost. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>********************</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next few days passed as if in a dream. </p><p>Arthur was free to roam outside to his heart’s content, spending the hours of newfound freedom to strengthen his body and to breathe in the fresh air. It chased away the darkness that was so saturated in painful experiences. </p><p>Despite that, he couldn’t even be properly thankful for the respite because he was still a prisoner. </p><p>He knew the sorcerer wouldn’t leave him alone forever, and while Merlin joined him outside every afternoon, it seemed like his father had left him with chores and tasks that kept him busy throughout the morning.  </p><p>He was curious, but easily resisted the urge to watch Merlin work. </p><p>For one thing, he didn’t want to see him puttering away in that torture room that only held bad memories, and for another Merlin never invited him into the other house when he was working in there.</p><p>He did follow him about like a puppy when he tended to the garden or drew water from the well. He noticed how Merlin so often faltered in his tasks, and came to realize that here were instances he would have used his magic if it were not locked away by the metal bracelet he still wore. </p><p>He spent quite a lot of time alone with Merlin’s mural. </p><p>Every single time he touched the dragon and felt that warm spark, his <i>magic</i>, leap at his command to bring the little painted beast to life…it was an indescribable feeling of joy. </p><p>The pure innocence in the childish depictions of these fantastical animals, the breathtaking magic that caused them to frolic across the white wall, all of it gave him a glimpse of what sort of child Merlin had been: a child full of wonder and unfathomable magic. </p><p>Seeing the neglected state of it now filled him with grief.</p><p>Ever since that day when Merlin went against his father, Arthur felt that he was starting to see who Merlin really was in little bits and pieces offered hesitant and shy, and he patched them together with the knowledge he was able to glean on his own. Merlin had begun to trust him with himself, and Arthur felt he was slowly seeing the truth of him. </p><p>Merlin had taken so much from him, had intruded in his very mind, but now Arthur was glad Merlin had seen him so completely. He must know that Arthur didn’t hate him, that he would fight for the both of them. He must trust Arthur because he had <i>seen</i> his heart. </p><p>Arthur wanted to be brave enough and strong enough to make sure that trust wasn’t misplaced. </p><p>When Merlin couldn’t free him and offered him the gift of magic in apology, he realized that he could offer nothing in return but a silent promise to take Merlin with him when he left his place. </p><p>The day the sorcerer came striding out of the woods, Arthur briefly considered hiding, until his brain kicked in and instead he held his ground.</p><p>He needn’t have worried, the man was there to collect Merlin, and neither of them looked back at him as they quickly left him alone once more. </p><p>With nothing to do but wait for his jailers to return, Arthur woke up what he was beginning to think of as <i>his</i> dragon, and thought about how easily the magic came to him now that he’d actually used it of his own volition. </p><p>He thought of the shelves full of magic books, of all the cruelty, yes, but what of the books that made things such as this? What of spells like the one surrounding this field? He was a prisoner inside, but the sorcerer was able to traverse it at will. It would be a wonderous thing indeed to have such a thing around a vulnerable village or to reinforce the strength of a castle. </p><p>He had only been exposed to the very worst magic had to offer, he knew, and he wanted to ask Merlin for more. </p><p>He wanted to see if maybe he would be able to learn to fight with it. This power flowed through his veins, and he wanted to be able to access it, to practice and master it as he had with his sword. For a weapon didn’t only hurt, it also protected. </p><p>While Arthur wanted to leave here and find his way to the castle in Camelot to bring his treasonous knights to justice, to kill the sorcerer, and start helping the wrongfully cursed people of this kingdom, he also burned with the need to protect what was left of Merlin before it was too late. </p><p>If Merlin couldn’t free them, Arthur would learn what he could so he could do it instead.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His father took him back to Camelot that day. </p><p>A proclamation had been set, any learned citizen in the art of healing was to present themselves to the King. Days had gone by and none were able to discern his ailment, or even ease his torment. </p><p>The sky was heavy and dark with clouds, the sounds of work through the lower town muted and hushed more than usual as people chose to stay in their homes. More than one family nursed an ailing child, and there was not a single healer who had been able to help. </p><p>And if they feared that this sickness, this darkness, was not natural, they would be right.</p><p>Merlin tried not to look too closely at the fear or despair in the eyes that watched them pass. He could pretend not to see their haggard faces, but he couldn’t pretend the guilt wasn’t strong enough to turn his stomach. </p><p>It was all his doing, and he hid his shameful face, his cursed eyes, under his hood. </p><p>He didn’t know why his father had wanted him to do this to innocent people who already worked so hard to just survive, but his father only wanted his obedience, not his understanding.  </p><p>Soon enough, they left it all behind. </p><p>Weaving through the corridors, they ascended flights of stone steps that echoed their footfalls back in soft reverberations. The servant leading them knocked gently on the door, bowing at the waist as he opened it and announced them quietly, “A healer to attend His Highness.”</p><p>Merlin obediently followed his father inside to see the old Court Physician sat to one side of the bed, his whole posture spoke of defeat and the face that turned to glance at them was pale and drawn. His hands were clasped about those of the Princess, who Merlin was shocked to see sitting there. Her tearstained face was a picture of pain as she held vigil at her father’s sickbed.</p><p>“There, dear girl.” The old man said gently, “Another healer has come to try to help him. Please, my Lady, you need to take some rest-”</p><p>“She stays.” His father interrupted calmly, ignoring the feeble protests the Physician attempted to sway him with, while the Princess Morgana looked between Merlin and his father with uncertainty. “Take her over there.” He gestured to where to fire burned quietly in the hearth, and Merlin watched feeling a strange twinge in his chest at the way the Princess seemed loath to leave the bedside, reaching out with a cloth to wipe once more at a sweat slick brow, bending to press her lips to the man’s salt and pepper hair. “Now.” His father urged, and the physician at last drew the princess away.   </p><p>“My daughter—” King Bayard suddenly gasped after her, words almost instantly dissolving into a moan of pain and those eyes slid back white. </p><p>The princess promptly turned back to face Merlin’s father, her back straight and chin raised. </p><p>Merlin had to admire her bravery, her stubbornness, as she demanded, “I would tend to my father.” His father didn’t even look at her, staring instead with hard ambiguous eyes as the feverish King moved fitfully under the covers. “Please, he needs me-”</p><p>“Silence.” His father cut her off with a fling of one arm, a carelessly tossed spell, and Merlin watched as the princess stumbled back a step, hands raising to her throat as she gasped for air. </p><p>Her green eyes were enormous and now showed a fear that hadn’t been there before. His father flicked his fingers dismissively, and this time she didn’t resist as she was led over to the fire.</p><p>Morgana’s gaze didn’t leave her father, but the physician was staring at Merlin’s father with unconcealed shock, his eyes suddenly piercing as they took him in, before the expression on his face melted into one of recognition. </p><p>It was some long minutes before the King again managed to open hazy eyes, seeming unable to focus on the person standing before him. Merlin saw it when he finally seemed able to make out his father’s face, as his whole body froze. They stared at each other for a long moment, the King’s voice a wavering whisper as his fingers clutched feebly at the bedclothes. “Balinor?”</p><p>His father did not respond, and Merlin had a private moment of consternation as he realized both the physician and the King <i>knew</i> his father.</p><p>A second later, the fuzziness vanished from the King’s eyes, and the expression on his face became something of a cross between outrage and fear. “You! H-how dare you show your face here? You are still banished!”</p><p>“Our father is long dead.” His father responded coolly, watching with disinterest as the King struggled to push himself up. “I thought you might have seen fit to pardon me.” The King was shaking his head, as if trying to deny the existence of the man before him while his father merely chuckled humorlessly. “After all, I never stopped missing you, little brother.” </p><p>A choked gasp from the side of the room turned his attention to the princess still seated by the fire. Merlin had forgotten she was even there, and her face was openly dismayed at the revelation, as if she too already knew what this meant. </p><p>Merlin couldn’t help the way his hands clenched into fists, Morgana’s reaction proving that the scene before him was truly happening, that he wasn’t hallucinating the way his father loomed over the ailing King. </p><p>The King, his <i>uncle?</i>, whom he had helped curse not a week prior. Why hadn’t his father ever told him-</p><p>“You’re the one who cursed me!” The King accused, shuffling weakly in his bed, trying to put more space between them. “You never stopped desecrating your royal blood, even now!”</p><p>“Oh no, Bayard.” His father soothed, holding a hand out to Merlin without turning to look at him. Reluctantly, he shuffled forwards, his fingernails digging into his cold palms. He couldn’t even feel it. “That was the work of my son.” </p><p>This was some sort of sick introduction to family he hadn’t known he had, and Merlin couldn’t help the hurt resentment that was taking over the shock.</p><p>The King’s fevered blue eyes were now on him. “Your son?” The moment he looked into the gap of Merlin’s hood, he actually let out a low moan of terror, broad shoulders hunching as he pulled his blankets to himself as if they would shield him from the both of them. “Its eyes!” He cried, “That is no man!”</p><p>His father’s hand came to rest possessively on his shoulder, pushing him even closer to the cowering monarch. “Imagine my surprise, my <i>joy</i> when my newborn son performed magic. He was a sign from the Gods, proving everything I have done to be right.” He sounded almost proud, and Merlin’s heart thudded loudly in his ears.</p><p>“B-born doing magic?” The king stuttered. “That’s impossible! Unless…no he couldn’t be-” </p><p>“Our favorite childhood legend come to life, yes.” Fingers dug painfully into his shoulder now.</p><p>The King’s eyes fluttered shut, his thick brows drawn tight, his whole body trembling. His voice was hardly more than a whisper of reverence as the word “<i>Emrys</i>.” left him the same time as his remaining strength. </p><p>The man who slumped back into the pillows, face sallow and wan, was but a sickly shell of the person he had been a week before. And that was all Merlin’s doing. </p><p>Apparently, he not only knew nothing of his own father, he knew even less of the truths of the magic that flowed through his veins. </p><p>None of the spell books he’d studied held any history on the subject, nothing of how or why he held this limitless power. He hadn’t known he was born doing it. Hadn’t know that such a thing shouldn’t have been possible. He hadn’t known magic was not to be embraced. </p><p>And Emrys didn’t mean anything to him, but it made the King tremble before him in fear. </p><p>“I am sure you remember it, Bayard. He who commands Emrys is the rightful ruler of all of Albion. The Once and Future King.”</p><p>The King wouldn’t stop staring at Merlin, “And you think…that’s you?” </p><p>“I know it is. The crown should have been mine, just as-” the slightest catch of breath broke his impassioned tirade, and he drew in a deep breath before his voice now spat poison, “just as Hunith was <i>mine</i>. Both of them were mine before you stole everything from me!”</p><p>“That was through no fault but your own!” Bayard argued weakly, eyes finally snapping back to glare at his brother. “Your soul was forfeit the moment you let greed corrupt you to sin. To harness magic. It is not for men to touch. The proof lies in that demon you call a son.”</p><p>“How <i>dare</i> you!” The hand on Merlin’s shoulder now forced him to his knees, moving to his nape so that godsawful ring dug into his flesh, and he sucked in a shallow breath at what he knew came next. </p><p>This time, he didn’t think he’d be able to watch. </p><p>“After everything, you still don’t see it! You’re a fool for believing magic to be merely a dormant trait of royalty. It is our birthright, a sign of our power, and a true King would master it. I have spent over two decades trying to decide how I would use it to <i>end</i> you!” His father growled. </p><p>The candles about the room flickering wildly as he began to draw power from Merlin. The fire sank low in the hearth as oxygen was sucked from the air, wringing his lungs impossibly tight to bursting. </p><p>Merlin flinched as the ferocity of his father’s anger made him rough, tearing magic through their connection so violently it made his muscles ache. </p><p>“I see torturing you into madness would be too much a kindness. You condemned me to our father when I did nothing but embrace the gift I have been given. You stole my betrothed, and my crown. It is time I take it back.” The air was heavy against his ears, undulating shadows stretching impossibly across the ceiling. “Now, nothing would give me more pleasure than seeing the magic you so revile be the thing that destroys you.”</p><p>With that, he raised his free hand and directed his enraged thirst for revenge at the defenseless form on the bed. Energy crackled through the air, followed by the smell of ozone, and Merlin felt it deep in his gut as the spell hit with a vengeance. </p><p>It was the first time Merlin realized he’d ever seen his father lose control. He didn’t think he’d soon forget it. </p><p>The agonizing screams that struck through the numbness enveloping his senses sent a sharp jolt through his whole body. The apathy he’d so carefully cultivated over years of causing pain simply shattered as his heart raced, pulse thundering in his ears. </p><p>He had never known what it would be like to have to listen to it. The horrid sound nearly deafened him. Too loud, too suffering, too real, and he curled into himself as he fought the urge to tear himself away from his father’s grasp in order to clasp hands over his ears like a child.</p><p>He felt nauseous as he couldn’t help but breathe in the rotten stench of sick, knowing only too well what was happening to the body above him that spasmed as if bones were splintering and blood was boiling. </p><p>And still his father continued to drain his magic, feeding it ruthlessly into his torture. </p><p>Merlin reeled as he inhaled the toxic blackness that emanated from the magic his father twisted so cruelly, nothing at all like the sweet golden cascade of it inside himself. It felt tainted, dirty, and he wished it would just stop. </p><p>Slumping heavily against his father’s leg as the world dimmed and tilted, the screams followed him down, spiraling and echoing for all the men who had had to suffer before his father deemed it pain enough fit for a king. </p><p>When he was finally able to blink the world back into focus, he was laying on the floor. </p><p>The room was blessedly quiet, and his father was standing before the Princess Morgana at the other side of the room. </p><p>He looked down at her with disgust, grasping her jaw and turning her face side to side as she choked back silent sobs. </p><p>“You look so like her, I hate to admit.” The Princess shook her head in confusion, tears streaming down alabaster cheeks. “My dear Hunith.” His father’s voice was hard as iron. “She died giving birth to <i>you</i>.”</p><p>He didn’t give Morgana a chance to respond, releasing her with a shove to make her fall to the floor before him. “You don’t seem to appreciate the mercy I am showing you. You don’t deserve the magic that runs in your veins. However, she would have wanted me to spare you. You will not be harmed as long as you do what you’re told”. </p><p>He was turning dismissively away, but froze at the low angry whisper from the girl at his feet.</p><p>“I would rather <i>die</i>!”</p><p>His father didn’t even turn fully to face her, merely glancing over one shoulder with a considering look. “As you like.” His eyes turned to find Merlin, who was aching all over, slumped on the floor, while above him on the bed the body of the King still twitched grotesquely. “Kill her.” He commanded with a small jerk of his chin to indicate his wishes. </p><p>Merlin couldn’t seem to swallow down the lump that clogged his throat, his eyes flitting over to the obviously terrified, yet still defiant princess. Stupidly defiant. He didn’t understand her lack of self-preservation, the way she would rather die than bow to his father. He wasn’t sure if he resented or admired her spirt, but he couldn’t deny the fact that they shared a mother. She was his <i>sister</i>, and he couldn’t- just couldn’t.</p><p>“Father.” He tried not to beg, but knew the man heard it for what is was. </p><p>His expression didn’t change, and for the life of him Merlin couldn’t tell which way he would decide.</p><p>“You would keep her, then? Just like your little pet prince.” His lips pulled into something like a sneer, and Merlin couldn’t breathe for the way the man before him looked a complete stranger. </p><p>He dropped his eyes to the ground, bowing his head before his father’s derision. It didn’t matter what he thought, as long as he didn’t make Merlin kill her. </p><p>It was the first time he ever dared to ask for something and he feared his father would not give it. Or worse, he may take back what he’d already given instead as a lesson not to test him again. He could take Arthur away.</p><p>Upon the bed the King had gone unsettlingly still, the sudden quiet significant, but Merlin didn’t dare to even lift his eyes. </p><p>His father heaved an irritated sigh. “For now.” He warned. “She makes one move to defy me, and I’ll make your precious prince watch as you carve out her heart.” </p><p>Merlin bit his lip, squeezing his eyes closed in a desperate sort of relief, each breath he took measured and slow. </p><p>She had been tentatively spared, and along with her a part of Merlin’s heart that had warmed traitorously at her discovery was also spared something he was sure he would never have come back from. </p><p>“Gaius.” His father suddenly addressed the old physician who had moved to the side of the King, the steady hands that had been straightening limbs and smoothing down blankets froze. He turned slowly to regard Merlin’s father, then bowed his head in deference. “See to it the body is prepared properly for burial. I will let the people have that much.”</p><p>Gaius head remained bowed as he spoke, “Yes…Sire.”</p><p>His father nodded curtly at the respectful title, his gaze sweeping over to Morgana once more, eyes hardening, before he told Merlin to ‘take care of her’. At last he turned and left the room, the heaviness in the air seeming to lift just that little bit with his departure.</p><p>Merlin eased himself to his feet, light headedness overtaking him as he swayed slightly, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. </p><p>He glanced over to Morgana who was staring straight back at him with a stoic expression on her face. She too had risen to her feet, but with decidedly more grace and poise than he could ever muster.</p><p>He indicated the door with a tilt of his head, “Come.” He nearly cringed at the way his voice was barely more than a croak.</p><p>Morgana just looked at him, the line of her jaw slowly hardening. “I would stay to help Gaius, my- my Lord.” </p><p>She seemed to be transfixed by his golden eyes, but even they didn’t deter her from asserting her will. </p><p>Merlin balked at the title, wanting to laugh if only he could remember how. “I am no lord.” He replied instead, then moved towards her and making as if to grab her wrist.</p><p>She twisted and backed away, her long emerald gown swirling around her. His eyes caught on the crumpled fabric, dirty with stains. “Please…Emrys.” She raised pleading green eyes to him, the sheen of tears in them making something in his chest tightly uncomfortable. “I-I just want to say goodbye.”</p><p>If she was hoping to evoke pity in him, to twist him to do her bidding…well, he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t already working. He paused. “My name is Merlin.” He told her firmly, unsure of why he was even speaking to her, let alone divulging something she could use against him. </p><p>But he didn’t want to be this ‘Emrys’ that inspired fear in kings.</p><p>Morgana stopped trying to evade him, and now her eyes were sharp and searching as if she was trying to make out his face hidden beneath the hood. She glanced briefly over to where her father lay, expression threatening to crack before she visibly pulled herself back together and looked at Merlin with something fiery simmering in her eyes.</p><p>“You called him father…yet, I saw the way he used you.” </p><p>Merlin blinked in surprise at her words. If she thought she could make an ally in him, turn him against his father, she was sadly mistaken. There was no going against his father. Ever. She had no idea what she was up against. </p><p>He shook his head slightly, unable to even put into words the vastness of his father’s command over him. She had no idea, and unfortunately for her, she would probably soon find out for herself.</p><p>She was moving closer to him, and Merlin trembled with indecision as he knew he had nothing to fear from this princess, that he could overpower her in a heartbeat were he not currently bound, but right at this moment he felt so very exposed in a way he’d never yet experienced in his entire life.</p><p>“Merlin.” She murmured, her voice, her expression, her whole body now gentle and unthreatening. “Would you show me your face?” One hand lifted tentatively as if she would lower his hood herself. “Please…brother?”</p><p>And Merlin’s breath hitched as he took a step back away from her. What was she trying to- What was he even supposed to say? She was looking at him so earnestly, and for some reason he didn’t even lift a finger to stop her as her hand came closer, boldly raised to his head and gently pulled down his hood.</p><p>They stared at each other for endless heartbeats. Merlin unable to release the breath he held as Morgana’s eyes roved over his face. </p><p>The small furrow between her fine brows suddenly cleared, and she stared at him with wide eyes, looking as if she <i>knew</i> him. “Gaius!” She suddenly called, “I have Seen him.” Wonder filled her voice. “But I had no idea who you were.” </p><p>The rustle of clothing beside them indicated the approach of Gaius, who was also staring openly at Merlin. He, too, had a knowing look, yet his kindly face was lined with unspeakable sorrow.</p><p>“I remember the day you were born, my boy.” Merlin’s gaze snapped to him in shock. “You did magic as a babe, Merlin. We hid you away as long as we could, but when your father was banished he had no choice but to flee with you.” He scrutinized Merlin carefully, one fuzzy white eyebrow beginning to creep up his forehead as he leveled him with a piercing blue gaze. “You…had your mother’s eyes. I hesitate to speculate what has happened to make them as they are now…?”</p><p>As if he could possibly ever guess, when neither Merlin nor his father would be able to explain it. He shifted uncomfortably beneath their joint scrutiny, unconsciously moving the wrist encircled with that cold band of iron behind his back. He almost felt compelled to show Gaius, to tell him everything, but his attention returned to Morgana as she made a small noise in the back of her throat. </p><p>Her face had changed again, and the concern and kindness now there was enough to break him if he didn’t make it stop. </p><p>“He beats you.” She whispered in horror, the hand that had lingered in the folds of fabric moving to graze across his cheek still colored with fading bruises, the ugly jagged cuts now scabbed over on its way to scar. </p><p>And it hurt. Not the careful touch, that was something a part of him wanted to lean into, no, it hurt because the instant her fingertips brushed his skin, he felt that awful lurch in his core as a slash of ice lanced through him. </p><p>He felt sick with the depth of his sudden despair. </p><p>Not her, too. </p><p>He jerked himself away from the touch before the thing could properly grasp the gush of bright starlight that was her magic. Only a monster would crave the warm magic of his own sister, but with how carved out and raw he felt, one more touch was all it might take for him lose control of it. </p><p>Another pair of feminine eyes, a warm chocolate brown all empty and staring, flashed in his head, and he couldn’t stop his face from <i>crumpling</i>. Spinning on his heel he yanked his hood back up, finding comfort in its familiar concealing darkness. </p><p>“Don’t ever touch me.” He bit out harshly, unable to stand there with her a single second more, the kindness she offered, the siren call of her magic, it was too dangerous for the both of them, and he had to leave. </p><p>“Merlin, please, wait-“ Followed him out the door. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>When Arthur looked up at him from his spot leaning against the wall by the garden, basking in the last light of late afternoon, Merlin knew. </p><p>He had to do something to ease the gaping hole that was tearing him apart inside. </p><p>As he marched towards the prince, his hands were busy at one ear, fumbling blindly before simply ripping the earring from its place as he fell heavily to his knees before the other.</p><p>His hands shook as he offered it up to Arthur. </p><p>“Please, take it back. I can’t- I can’t keep it from you any longer.” He drew in a shuddering breath. Arthur merely glanced at the small trinket before his clear blue gaze returned to his face. “I- <i>please</i>, Arthur. You need to claim it, I can’t- while I’m bound. But, you can’t let him know. Just hide it. Don’t let him hear you, please, just take it back-“ He broke the rambling off, panting, as Arthur reached out, not for the now softly glowing earring, but for Merlin’s hood. </p><p>For the second time in as many hours, a hand grasped the material and pulled it away to bare his face. </p><p>Merlin suddenly found he couldn’t look at him, couldn’t even force his features into any semblance of control. He crushed his eyes closed against the traitorous tears that rose up suddenly to push against the back of his eyes. He couldn’t even think of a reason why he shouldn’t give in to the urge either, not after his whole world had been shaken apart and put back together completely wrong.</p><p>The warmth clasping over his hand made him start, and he looked down to see Arthur’s strong hands enveloping his. The touch of skin sent ripples of a chill down his spine, but the warmth of what lay between their hands was growing by the second and drew all his attention. </p><p>He could feel it even through the bindings holding his magic back, felt the swell of warmth that was Arthur’s magic swirling around their hands. </p><p>The crooning whisper of the trapped voice grew in strength, echoes of sunbursts of laughter, snatches of that sweet melody that always filled Merlin’s heart to bursting, and Merlin’s heart began racing as honey golden light spilled from between their joined fingers. It creeped up their arms before it exploded with a soft whoosh of air, shooting up to strike Arthur in the chest.</p><p>The impact of it knocked him back, their hands separating as the empty earring dropped to the ground. </p><p>Arthur had his hands pressed to his own chest, gasping as the light sank into him, his eyes fluttering closed as his face twisted into something like pained pleasure. A moment later he groaned, sound rumbling in his chest, and opened eyes that were dazed, but so bright with joy.</p><p>He looked at Merlin for a long moment, and Merlin blinked back stupidly, before a slow smile spread across his handsome face as he barked out a short laugh full of delight, and the crooked teeth that peeked through tugged at something in Merlin’s chest. </p><p>His eyes were burning yet <i>again</i>. Why was Arthur so bright and beautiful? How did a mere smile have the power to turn Merlin inside out?</p><p>“Thank you.” The first words he spoke sent Merlin rocking back on his heels as if struck. How could he possibly mean that, after everything Merlin had done to him. Seemingly able to read his thoughts, Arthur sobered slightly, holding his eyes. “I mean it. You take a personal risk by giving me this. I will not forget it.”  </p><p>“I should have never taken it in the first place.” Merlin replied bitterly, the shame of it making it hard to hold that openly honest gaze. </p><p>He realized he felt slightly off balance, that the warm little presence that kept him from feeling so alone was now gone on one side, restored to its rightful place. And he couldn’t help but reach to the other ear, fingers brushing against Freya’s stone just enough to make it give a little tinkling trill, curling about the lobe of his ear in a gentle caress. </p><p>This one would stay with him forever.</p><p>He had forgotten for a moment, that his hood was lowered and Arthur could see him. He should have known Arthur wouldn’t miss the gesture, if the small sound of disapproval was anything to go by. </p><p>He glanced up through his lashes furtively, the slight downturned moue of Arthur’s mouth making him feel guilty, and so so sorry. </p><p>“And whose voice is that, now?”</p><p>The look on his face was neutral, but the tone of his voice was hard, demanding answers. He should have known giving Arthur the ability to speak would ruin him.</p><p>His fingers fidgeted nervously, twisting the earring as he struggled to find a way to explain it without…without admitting to murdering a child. He wanted to tell him, but then again, he didn’t want him to know. He couldn’t bear to lose the tentative friendship that stretched between them, he just couldn’t. </p><p>“She’s dead.” He whispered, bowing his head, and he really didn’t mean to keep speaking, had meant to keep it locked inside until the day he died, but it came spilling out of him like poison, “I killed her.” </p><p>He hunched into himself, the tight ball of pain that kept Freya’s memory safe throbbed with the confession. It still hurt so much. He still hated himself, and now Arthur would hate him even more than he already did. </p><p>What was wrong with him? It was as if he wanted Arthur’s judgement, wanted to be condemned at last for the crime he had gotten away with so long ago. And Arthur was just so good, and bright, he made Merlin want to be better. To be worthy enough to know him.</p><p>“Why?” Arthur demanded quietly. He still sounded so calm, merely curious, as if compiling the facts would help him decide how best to punish him, and Merlin found himself struggling to find an answer as to <i>why</i> when the real question should have been <i>how</i>. </p><p>Hers was the only death not ordered by his father, and if not for him she would probably still be alive.  </p><p>“I- She was-“ He gulped, unable to take a full breath. “I just held her hand, and- her magic came to me, and I- I don’t know – she was gone. It was…an accident.” But that didn’t make it any better, actually that totally made it worse. </p><p>That ability to kill was still there, cold and heavy and always so <i>hungry</i>for magic, and though he’d never wielded it on purpose, he had attacked Arthur with it. Had felt it stir at Morgana’s touch. He couldn’t control it even after all these years, and he turned away from Arthur in humiliation, teeth clenched, as the first tear spilled down his cheek.</p><p>He brushed it away roughly, but another took its place, and another, and <i>why</i> was he crying? He just couldn’t breathe, and he now had yet another death staining his hands, this one of his own blood, his <i>Uncle</i>, and a sister who saw him do it yet still looked at him like he was a person, and his father was actually supposed to be the King, while he was some sort of legendary monster who had eyes like a demon and magic that tried to suck the life out of any person he dared touch. Not to mention the countless men he had tortured and killed under his father’s command. </p><p>Killing Freya was the least of the horrors he had committed. </p><p>Hands fell heavily on his shoulders, startling him, and as he turned to look at him Arthur was already drawing him near, crushing him into an embrace. Merlin hiccoughed, curling reflexively into the broad chest and hiding his face in the thin fabric of his tunic.</p><p>He smelled like sunwarmed skin, and the earth, and his arms were so strong yet gentle as they seemed to cradle him. A gentleness he didn’t deserve, one he hadn’t known he craved, and he was helplessly overwhelmed with everything that was Arthur. </p><p>“Hush.” Arthur spoke into his hair, one hand coming to sink tentatively in the dark locks. “You…are a good person.” His chest rose and fell beneath Merlin’s head with each breath, his strong heartbeat and the rumble of his voice filling his ears. “I’ve seen enough to know you are nothing like him. You wouldn’t do it unless he made you.”</p><p>Merlin felt sick, fisting his freezing hands into the fabric before his face. </p><p>“You’re wrong.” He ground out. “You don’t know-” He pushed himself away from Arthur roughly, glaring into that stupidly noble face with those eyes that wanted to see the good in things, even when it wasn’t there. “You don’t know what I’ve done!” </p><p>Arthur’s lips quirked to one side. “You are repenting. And if your heart remains true, it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>His casual dismissal, the confident way he just decided everything was fine, the way he was so blinded by his own ridiculously high morals made him seethe. Arthur had no idea what a real monster looked like, had no idea how Merlin was abused and trained like an animal until he gave in and that there was no redemption. Not for him. </p><p>Because if he was honest with himself, he knew it was already too late. </p><p>That cold monster inside of him was growing beyond his control and he knew it wasn’t long before it would consume him. Then it would slaughter anyone it could find with magic. There was no escaping it.</p><p>The anger, the hatred, the fear, it boiled in his gut, and then even with the cold iron cuffing his wrist, he felt icy magic leaping to his call. As if merely thinking of that part of himself he tried to deny caused it to waken. </p><p>He jerked to his feet, lurching towards the expanse of grass now falling under the first touch of dusk. His vision was narrowing, the pressure building in his chest, and he knew he had to get away, had to put distance between them before he lost control and it burst from him. </p><p>He had to protect Arthur. </p><p>A single heartbeat. That was as long as Merlin was able to resist, a single brain numbing moment in which the sight of golden waves of grass seemed to tilt sideways before him, and then the wind came to life feeding hungrily upon his emotions, screaming and wildly soaring into the field, wrenching and shredding the golden grass into broken pieces which were caught up into its swirling depths. </p><p>Merlin couldn’t hear anything but the wail of the wind, the wail of his soul crushed beneath too <i>much</i>, and then something caught hold of his arm.</p><p>He whirled around, his gaze burning through the dimming light and catching instantly on a pair of wide blue eyes that were staring right at him. </p><p>He faltered, stumbling as in a blinding instant a shock of cold punched him in the gut, scratching and tearing into his insides like a fiend scrambling to get out. Crawling up and up, coating his throat, and searing his mouth with burning ice. </p><p>He fell to his hands and knees with a strangled cry, choking as he fought with it. It was desperately attempting to escape and claim the golden magic of the man that had cracked him open.</p><p>As he struggled to force the thing down ice formed about him, radiating out from his crumpled form. Crackling and frosting its way quickly across the hard ground, encasing the grass in soft white as it froze everything it touched upon contact.</p><p>The sound of Arthur roughly shoving through frozen stalks came to him hazily through the rushing noise filling his head. He was foolishly moving towards the beast that Merlin barely managed to contain within himself. And he ached for how he knew deep down that <i>he was</i> the beast. It would be so much easier for everyone if he just gave in. The King had known. His father had known, and he could see now that this was what his father raised him to be.</p><p>He was already losing to it. </p><p>There was nothing left but a single deliciously warm radiance, magic calling to him, unprotected and easy for the taking. The monster surged and churned yet again against his mental constraints and Merlin dug his fingers into the hard iced over ground to attempt to find some strength to cage it once again.</p><p>He would drain him of magic, would steal every last drop of heated life from his body, and he would be gone. Just like he had done to Freya. It’s what the beast wanted, what it lived for. </p><p>But he knew, with the last bit of humanity he clung to, that’s not what he wanted.</p><p>Straining with effort, he concentrated his everything upon his task. Fighting back the cold had never been so difficult nor brought him so much agony. And for a moment, he wondered if it was worth it. If Arthur was worth the way he was falling apart and losing himself in the most horrific fashion. But, no, Arthur didn’t deserve this.</p><p>It was almost too anticlimactic, when finally, suddenly, the biting cold receded and faded in all of an instant. It left him shivering and weak upon the hard ground, and Merlin bit back a moan as he sucked in long steadying breaths of rapidly thawing air.</p><p>He raised his head slowly, eyes already searching for Arthur, to see if the cold had managed to touch him. </p><p>The other was standing alone not too far away, staring down at him where he lay disheveled in the middle of an ornate landscape of ice. In those few moments of internal struggle, night had already fallen and he couldn’t quite make out Arthur’s expression. </p><p>He pushed himself to his feet slowly, hardly daring to believe the episode over. </p><p>He stood for a moment, gathering himself, while each breath still left him in a puff of misty white. The temperature of the summer evening had dropped steeply, and he shivered as he looked at Arthur, begging silently for something he didn’t even understand.</p><p>Arthur stepped closer and reached for him then. The warmth of his fingers was a soft kiss of heat on his frozen face as he slid them under his chin and drew his head up. Arthur’s eyes were burning.</p><p>A hotness uncoiled within his stomach, snaking slowly through his veins as he drank in the fire that pooled in those orbs. The spark that no amount of torture was able to destroy, was still strong and now intensely focused on nothing but him. </p><p>Merlin’s breath caught as he soaked in the pure conviction coloring Arthur’s face. This was the gaze of a king. This was a man he would follow, would die for willingly.</p><p>“Merlin.” Arthur rasped, voice rough. “Don’t you see how brave you are? How strong.” He was so close, his warm breath sending shivers down Merlin’s spine. He sunk a hand into Merlin’s thick hair, tugging gently. Leaning close, he pressed the words against Merlin’s ear, “But please, stop fighting it.” </p><p>Merlin’s breath hitched, cold fog invading his mouth as each exhale coated his lips with frost. He felt frozen to the bone, and the fingers clutching onto Arthur’s wrist were beginning to radiate a familiar faint white glow. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin pulled weakly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. </p><p>“What do you mean-?” His gold eyes were impossibly large, wide, and filled with a fear Arthur didn’t know how to categorize. “You saw...you could <i>see</i> it?” He stumbled over his own words in confusion before he tore himself away from Arthur’s hands.</p><p>“You saw what was in me, didn’t you?” Snowflakes burst around him, sprinkling white dust into the expansive stretch of night. “You saw it. You—you <i>called</i> to it, and now it’s...it keeps trying to get out—”</p><p>“No, Merlin.” Arthur rushed to say. “Don’t you see what he has done to you? He made you doubt yourself, to fear your own magic!” </p><p>He couldn’t bear to see the way this impossibly beautiful, broken man still craved so desperately to be good, but didn’t believe he ever could be. He spoke as if his magic was a caged beast he had to struggle to contain. </p><p>As if it wasn’t even part of him. </p><p>Arthur could feel his own magic, warm and comforting, like an old friend bathing him in a sense of togetherness. It had opened to him a connection with the world around him, felt as much a part of him as his blood, and he couldn’t imagine what pain could have possibly caused Merlin to hate and fear it. To hurt every time he used it.    </p><p>And while, yes, he had wielded his magic to inflict pain, to torture and kill, Arthur had also seen the traces of his sad little garden which must have once been wonderous. He had felt the goodness in the magic that filled those whimsical drawings. He saw the way Merlin cried over a life he’d taken long ago, the way he tried to protect Arthur even when he had nothing to fight with. </p><p>He saw a clear picture of a gentle heart who had so much to give, and instead had been beaten into submission.</p><p>The cruel monster he called father had successfully broken him into jagged pieces, had abused the magic he gave so freely. He'd twisted and twisted until it had splintered, dangerous and unpredictable like a wounded animal. And sweet Merlin, he couldn’t even seem to see it. </p><p>“It is still yours.” He soothed, reaching for him even as Merlin backed away. “You don’t need to keep fighting it.” </p><p>Even as he spoke Merlin’s whole form began to glow hazy white, illuminating the crystal sparkles of ice, lighting up the night. It flared in a single bright pulse that momentarily left him too dazzled to see. </p><p>Merlin and his power was so mysteriously beautiful, and here in the suddenly wintry evening, those golden eyes shone like stars. </p><p>His breath caught as he stared at the man before him, overwhelmed with the realization that he didn't just want to save him, he wanted <i>him</i>. He breathed again as he saw now how Merlin seemed to want him, too. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  ++++++++++++++++++++
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  Merlin looked deeply into Arthur’s eyes, wanting to understand how the man could possibly believe in him, wanting desperately to trust him. But he didn’t know what part of him it was that was aching to take more, needing to touch and claim and brand him with his hands and mouth. 
</p><p>
  He wanted to prove Arthur right, to prove he could control the ferocious cold lurking so dangerously beneath the surface, the one that Arthur said was his. Oh, how he longed for that to be true, for then it would be so easy to just give <i>in</i>. 
</p><p>
  That was the last sweet thought on his mind before he was lost again to the feel of it trickling along his veins in a quickly spreading web. It chilled his blood and swirled thickly in his head like cold heavy mist, warping his convictions but filling him with the sudden realization that all he needed to do was speak and he could wield the power as he wished. 
</p><p>
  So then, that proved it was part of him. But he was afraid of it still.
</p><p>
  And he didn’t even care to question why it still felt so different than the magic he had been born with, how this cold magic could overpower the magic restraints, as all he wanted was to see if Arthur would kiss him back. 
</p><p>
 He nearly sobbed in relief when he did. 
</p><p>
  Nothing existed anymore except for the soft warmth of Arthur’s mouth on his, the strong hands that immediately drew him close. Everywhere Arthur touched was so hot it was almost painful against his frozen skin, and he whimpered and shook as he clung to him anyway. 
</p><p>
  Their lips met again and again, Arthur’s tongue so hot as it plundered his mouth, as if he was trying to transfer his heat to him through the fervor of his kisses. He soaked it in, trails of fire rushing through him, Arthur's beautiful <i>magic</i> sinking in to ignite his very core with blissful warmth. And that was when he realized this wasn’t the heat of passion. 
</p><p>
  It was the heat he’d felt before he struck Arthur down with cold words he didn’t know, and again when Morgana had touched his face. But even before that…this was exactly how it had felt when he’d killed Freya.
</p><p>
  Merlin didn’t know where he found the strength to tear himself away, but he cried out in dismayed horror as Arthur’s brightness dimmed before his eyes, his body swaying as he looked at Merlin with bleary confusion. 
</p><p>
  The King had been right. He was a killer. His <i>magic</i> was a killer. 
</p><p>
  Nor could he deny that as he came back to himself, his very soul seemed unable to thaw back out. It slowly crusted into an ugly chip of dark ice around the magic he’d stolen from Arthur and a searing cold burn echoed physically upon the tattooed skin of his chest. His hand pressed to the spot in a stupor. They had never pained him before.  
</p><p>
  And he knew somehow that the beast within him had consumed Arthur’s magic, had grown stronger for it, and it purred in approval while offering him yet more power. His head rang with the call of it, an urge to use those spells he couldn’t understand but yearned to speak again. They would fell Arthur where he stood, they would bleed him dry. 
</p><p>
  The force of its craving rocked his body, and how could this truly be part of him? It was mindless with the need to kill, and that wasn’t <i>him</i>. He didn’t want it!
</p><p>
  It had taken over him, taken his desire and twisted it until he thought he was in control. It had stolen magic from Arthur, and wouldn’t have stopped until he was dead.
</p><p>
  Merlin was terrified of what he may become if he continued to lose himself in such a way. 
</p><p>
  All he knew was that if being Emrys meant harboring this sinister magic which offered him something far greater than even his father possessed, he would have to find how to get rid of it. He would find out how to stop being Emrys. Nobody should ever have access to this soaring, invincible power. 
</p><p>
  As Arthur slumped against him heavily and the warmth of his skin pressed against his chilled frame, he clutched at the limp body and resolutely forced the lingering caresses of coldness away. It was a seduction he hadn’t intended to succumb to, one that left him feeling small and insignificant in his own skin. 
</p><p>
  Now that he had felt what it could do, what he could accomplish should he just give in, he quaked with the idea that maybe, just maybe he could try to escape his father at last. 
</p><p>
  He would be able to protect Arthur, even from his father. With such an endless unstoppable power at his disposal, he could do anything he wanted. His father’s horrid bracelet was no match for this. For Emrys. 
</p><p>
  He shook the idea away with a groan of frustration. It wouldn’t stop twisting his mind. He couldn’t get it out of him soon enough.
</p><p>
  If only he didn’t lose himself to it first. If only it didn’t so desperately want to kill Arthur. 
</p><p>
  If only he didn’t think he would be able to protect Arthur from himself. 
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  ++++++++++++++++++++
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  Arthur felt as if he had been deep in his cups, much too deep. His legs didn’t seem to want to support him, and he knew he wouldn’t have been able to walk if not for Merlin holding him up. 
</p><p>
  He was leading him back to the house, and Arthur struggled to form words with a tongue that felt thick and clumsy. A tongue that had just been kissing Merlin. Hadn’t he? Why were they not kissing now? 
</p><p>
  It must be because he was drunk off his arse, he couldn’t even walk for godssake- His stumble nearly brought them both to the ground, and he turned all his attention into putting one foot in front of the other. 
</p><p>
  Merlin turned him not towards the black pit that served as his room, but towards the main house instead. He guided him carefully through to another small room to one side, and all Arthur could make out in the darkness was a pallet on the floor that served as a bed. 
</p><p>
  Even through the haze blanketing his brain, it broke his heart as he realized this must be Merlin’s room. It was nearly identical to his own prison. 
</p><p>
  And wasn’t that just the whole point?
</p><p>
  His thoughts spun away from him as Merlin lowered him to the bed, and he reached for him blindly. “Stay with me.” He asked, unable to bear the thought of Merlin growing up all alone in this desolate place. 
</p><p>
  Merlin was already leaving his side. “I can’t.” Was all he heard before he was gone. 
</p><p>
 Arthur slept.
</p><p>
  Light on his face woke him in the morning, and he groaned around the pounding in his head. Squinting his eyes open, he was shocked to find himself in a room bathed in bright jeweled tones of red, gold, and sapphire. 
</p><p>
  He looked to the source to find the small window set in the opposite wall to be paned with an intricate piece of colored glass. There was no lead piping holding it together, just a swirl of smooth colors depicting jeweled dragons and fiery phoenixes dancing in the morning light. 
</p><p>
  The very air was alight with color, and he almost felt he could reach out and touch it. 
</p><p>
  And this little indulgence, this magical creation with no purpose but pure beauty was just so…<i>Merlin</i>, that his heart broke all over again. 
</p><p>
  His tentative exploration of the house found himself alone, and he cautiously partook of the food and water that seemed to have been left out for him. He retreated again to Merlin’s room, nervously pacing before the now dimmed colored window, before he decided he would risk a possible run in with Merlin’s father. Because he couldn’t wait another moment to search for Merlin. 
</p><p>
  In the end, he needn’t have worried. Neither of them were to be found, and Arthur spent a long lonely day walking the perimeter of the field that trapped him. 
</p><p>
  He was getting better at sensing magic the more he saw of it, and he could now feel the way the air hummed and vibrated with power. There was a literal wall of magic he was unable to pass through. He walked and walked until his feet grew as weary as his heart, and he spent the rest of the afternoon curled into Merlin’s hard pallet. 
</p><p>
  The threadbare blanket smelled of him, and Arthur wrapped it around himself like a shield. 
</p><p>
  The sun set, and still Merlin did not come back. He would not see him again for nearly a full week.
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  ********************
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sooo. I guess this could go down as what would it be like if Balinor was  a baddy instead of Uther? XD</p><p>I just hope all his motivations make sense/are believable ~ and who can resist a little prince Merlin.? No one, that's who. And esp not Arthur :B</p><p>Thank you for reading this far!!♡♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p>Before the council his father sat at the head of the table, regal and solemn. Merlin was told to stand slightly behind him to the right, a dark silent figure in black, and he could see the way the counselors looked at him nervously, none brave enough to ask who he was. </p><p>His father spoke of the way his brother had called for him on his deathbed, begged him to come back to care for his people, to be there for his daughter in her grief. He told them his brother’s final act was to pardon him, to rescind the banishment and reinstate his former claim to the throne. He spoke of how he would free them from the curse on the land, would give them an invincible army to protect them and to take the wealth the other kingdoms hoarded for themselves. He was derisive of Alba’s paltry offerings that had come with their prince, and entreated the counselors to seize this chance, to pledge their support as he had the power to take that prosperous kingdom as their own.  </p><p>When his father stood before the people assembled in the town square, looking down at all those expectant upturned faces, he used magic to amplify his voice and give him larger than life presence. His strength had always been in manipulating the mind, and his magic floated across them like dust to ensnare them in his lies of his dedication to their livelihood, his grief for his brother, and the way he would care for Morgana as his own. There were tears on many of those faces, and the blind adoration that shone up at him by the end of his speech was sickening.</p><p>He called for the men to present themselves for training, for the women to prepare their families for war. He promised them victory and an end to the suffering if they pledged themselves to his magic, to the way he would prove himself indestructible before their enemies. He promised them food, water, healthy livestock, and Merlin could see the longing on those faces. These people would follow their powerful new king blindly into a needless war out of desperation. </p><p>The princess stood as far from him as was politically decent, resplendent and beautiful in black. Her long hair rippled in the wind as she gazed out over her people with fiercely burning green eyes. She would protect them as best she could, Merlin knew she would never stop fighting.</p><p>As for Merlin, he remained a spectator hidden in the shadows. </p><p>Then behind closed doors in the chambers of the newly crowned King, he was ordered to his knees. He bared the back of his neck submissively as his father used great swaths of his magic to continue his real work and tilt the odds in their favor. </p><p>Looking back, Merlin saw how everything had been leading up to this point. All of it had been for this. </p><p>It had all been for revenge followed by total and complete domination of a kingdom that was once promised to him. He cut them to their knees and then offered them his hand as the only thing that could possibly save them. The scope of it staggered him, and he tried not to let his father see his very real fear. </p><p>He dared not even look at him, meek and compliant, as he helplessly continued to aide his father turned King.</p><p>His father didn’t seem to care how <i>much</i> he was taking, forcing Merlin’s magic out through stone and stretching it over distances to attend to the things he wanted done. </p><p>It was an exhausting taxation of his power, and even as it overflowed him like an endless ocean, the more that was demanded the less golden heat was left and he felt his anxiety rise as thin trickles of ice began to seep out together with it. </p><p>His father risked twisting his magic into a bottomless pit of ice as he used him to breathe life back into the very land he had been sucking dry for years. </p><p>Cleansing the water supply for the populace was first, as the city had long ago begun to rely solely on the heavily guarded reservoir deep beneath the mountain under the citadel. Ever since Merlin had cursed the water so many years ago, only the peasants with no other choice still used it. </p><p>Soon the paranoia would fade, the sick fear would turn to rejoicing and gratitude, hope would kindle and a wild unshakable devotion to their new magical king would be born. </p><p>Then he was to heal the crops. His father wanted him to not just revive them but to multiply them, causing a riot of excess where before there had been too little. </p><p>Merlin hadn’t done such large-scale healing or energizing magic before, and he struggled to force it out passed the frozen crystals that tried to shred it, tried to poison it. He didn’t want his father to realize what was happening inside him, struggling to keep the ice locked away, and he could scream from the pain of it. </p><p>All the underhanded destruction he’d been ordered to do sporadically over many years, he now saw that it had never been random. His father was not crazed or raging, he was calculating and driven. He knew exactly where to strike to make people weak, to make them needy, and then revealed himself to be the single answer to all their ails. </p><p>His father was ostentatiously open about taking the credit, making a show of his golden eyes and embellishing Merlin’s work with outrageous posturing and flourishes of harmless magic tricks. </p><p>Today, as he bowed under the strain of it, the loss of his magic leaving him feeling hollowed out and paper thin, he mourned for the pointless waste of life he’d caused for so many years. Even trying to heal it now would never be enough for all the innocent people and animals that had been crippled or killed at the whims of this man. And none of them knew that they were slaves to their savior, answering his call like a dog crawling on its belly. </p><p>They thought themselves indebted to him. They swore oaths to his majesty and praised his magic. All able-bodied men willingly admitted themselves into the quickly growing ranks of knights and foot soldiers.</p><p>The forge was roaring hot and busy both day and night, struggling to meet the demands for new weapons. The overflowing fields all surrounding the city were being harvested quickly to try to sustain the swell of people that now spilled from its walls. </p><p>His father took Merlin’s magic every single morning to strengthen and multiply those crops, while each afternoon was spent fortifying the newly forged weapons and imbuing leather armor with the hardness of diamonds. It was tedious and draining and he’d never known such exhaustion, even as the combination of the cold with his magic meant he never would run out. </p><p>Now his fingers remained numb regardless of how he tried to warm them, his movements growing clumsier as his magic slowly froze him from the inside out. He was so cold he couldn’t stand it. </p><p>Everyone was so busy, everyone with a role to play. And looking down from high above it all, Merlin saw a kingdom that was gladly preparing for war. They had magic on their side and a drive to fight the enemy who had seen them weak and subjugated and never offered aid. Each task that his father demanded of him Merlin saw as a pebble being knocked from a steep slope. It was only a matter of time before it was one too many, and the ensuing landslide would bring destruction.</p><p>He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, groaning as his father released him at last, dismissing him with orders to finally go collect his pet. Merlin didn’t care what names he called Arthur, he couldn’t move fast enough to comply. </p><p>His father also told him to change the weather on his way back, and Merlin’s heavy chest lightened just the bit at the idea of seeing the sky again. And the <i>sun</i>. </p><p>But more than the promise of glorious colored skies once more, the speed to his feet came from the desire to see that one sun that he was beginning to think of as his own. He dearly missed Arthur.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Merlin who returned to him was even more damaged than before, and Arthur ached with the need to just hold him. </p><p>He had been pleasantly surprised to get the chance to do just that when the door of the room burst open and a flurry of long limbs and black curls were suddenly enveloping him. </p><p>Merlin clung to him like he’d feared he would slip away, and Arthur gentled him as best he could. The glimpse he’d seen of his face showed him to be even more gaunt than before, and it concerned him how someone already starved to the bone could survive on even less. His whole body shivered with cold even through his clothes, and Arthur tried his best to rub warmth into his arms even when he knew the chill came from Merlin’s abused magic.</p><p>He wanted to know where he had been, what he’d been doing, but he realized Merlin was nearly crying and he held his questions back to murmur comfort instead. It was starting to become a pattern: Merlin shaking apart in his arms after days spent doing gods knew what for his father. </p><p>When the soft, distressed sounds had faded into steady breaths, Arthur ran a hand down his long back as he thought of the surprise he had waiting.</p><p>“Come.” He urged. “I want to show you something.”</p><p>Merlin lifted his face to look at him, those golden eyes like pits of fire when the lids were rimmed red, but the curious ‘mm?’ from deep in his throat made Arthur smile. He couldn’t hide his eagerness as he ushered Merlin to his feet, pushing him out the door until grumbling, he batted Arthur’s hands away. </p><p>Merlin followed him out to the back where the garden was, and Arthur bit his lips around his grin when he saw it there still. That impossible little white blossom.</p><p>Merlin went still when he saw it. Arthur heard his little intake of breath as he realized what it was, and what it meant. He turned wide eyes to Arthur. </p><p>“How did you-?” He started, turning back to look at the daisy with wonder on his face. “With your magic?”</p><p>Arthur felt like a proud father, bursting with it as Merlin couldn’t contain his genuine praise. “Arthur. This is- It’s amazing. You grew a flower.” He was smiling so freely, and Arthur felt like he could grow another right then and there. “How did you do it?” </p><p>Merlin sank to his knees in front of the small plant, running gentle fingers along the perfectly formed petals. Kneeling beside him, Arthur beamed down at it. </p><p>“I was getting bored without any evil sorcerers around trying to torture me-” Arthur broke off at Merlin’s baleful look, but just rolled his eyes and continued, “So I helped myself to some of those mysterious magical books. And, well, I could actually read the one about plants, so I thought I might try. A flower didn’t seem very difficult. They’re definitely not very big, and why not? I wanted something nice to look at.”</p><p>Merlin’s expression was hardening the longer he rambled on, his eyes going distant, and Arthur closed his mouth. </p><p>He had knelt here with his hands buried in the dirt, straining to make his magic come to him, searching with hands, and what he hoped was magic, in the ground for something that he could use. </p><p>He hadn’t known what he was doing, but when something inside him recognized a little spark buried under the earth, he had chanted the words of the spell until his voice was hoarse, his whole body had trembled with the effort of pushing that warmth into the dry earth until it had reached the spark. </p><p>And then he’d fed it and fueled it until it finally <i>grew</i> and he felt the rush of magic like waves of golden light spill out of him, and it was wonderful. He felt as if he could bloom a whole damn garden with the power of it, but apparently just the one flower was so exhausting that he’d passed out right there. </p><p>“Is magic always so draining?” He joked, trying to chase away the look on Merlin’s face. “Growing one little daisy knocked me right out.” He wasn’t exaggerating. He’d woken hours later with his face in the dirt and one spry little bud to show for it. </p><p>Merlin barely looked at him. “It comes easier with practice.” He said, and Arthur frowned at him. </p><p>“What is it?” He asked, hoping Merlin would confide in him. </p><p>With a pained look, Merlin gestured to the ground before them, bare expect for the one bloom. “This-all of this used to be covered with flowers.” His eyes roved the space, as if he could see it there still. “I wish I could show you.” He shook his head at his powerlessness. “I would grow a new one, a different color, every day.” </p><p>His fingers lingered on the petals and Arthur wondered if he could feel its sparkling hum of life even with the cuff around his wrist. Arthur hadn’t known there was such life in everything, such magic. This one little flower had changed how he viewed the world. </p><p>“All the colors of the rainbow, and it smelled like one, too.” Merlin was saying, “And sometimes, when I felt lonely…I would just lay down here, and- I would make the bluebells ring. Or the fiddlehead ferns, erm, fiddle?” A slow smile was cracking through the wistfulness on his face, and he glanced at Arthur as he finished, “Or, the trumpet honeysuckle…trumpet.”</p><p>Arthur leveled him with a look, “So as a lonely little lad, you amused yourself by making unicorns dance and flowers sing. Are you sure you’re not a girl, <i>Mer</i>lin?” </p><p>Merlin glared back at him, all traces of melancholy gone as he sat back on his heels. “Are you sure you’re not a dollophead?”</p><p>“A <i>what</i>? I see you made up words, as well. I don’t even know if I should I be offended by that-”</p><p>“How about a cabbagehead, then?” Merlin rejoined, a smirk curling his full lips, and Arthur growled in mock outrage.</p><p>“I’ll show you cabbage head!” He reached for a very conveniently placed cabbage, seeing it sat there beside them as if by magic, and tore off a handful of leaves. Gripping it again, he struggled to rip the vegetable out of the ground. It wasn’t as easy as he’d thought.</p><p>“Do you need a little help with that?” Merlin looked like he was trying not to smile, and Arthur wanted him to stop fighting it. He glared at him. </p><p>“I can pick my own cabbage just fine, thank you.” Spoken in his most princely voice, and Merlin finally grinned. Another pair of hands, bitingly cold, wrapped around the cabbage and overlapped his own, and with a well-practiced twist and tug, the thing came free.</p><p>“I think this is yours, Sire.” Merlin bowed his head as he offered it and Arthur threw his head back to laugh.</p><p>Merlin was just sat there, watching him with a content sort of expression as Arthur looked down in consternation at the vegetable. “I must admit, I do not care much for the taste of cabbage.” Merlin just shrugged, and took it when Arthur handed it over to him.</p><p>Arthur knew it would probably ruin the easy banter between them, but he had to know.</p><p>“What did he make you do?” Merlin’s face went predictably blank, and Arthur begged him with his eyes. “Please, Merlin. Whatever it is, I want to know. You don’t have to bear it alone.”</p><p>The other regarded him with a torn expression, and Arthur knew whatever he’d been forced to do must have been bad, but- </p><p>“He made me fix everything.” Merlin choked out, and Arthur didn’t understand. “All the things I destroyed over the years…he’s making me heal them.” He closed his eyes and hunched into himself. The cabbage lay forgotten in the dirt. “The water was poisoned to make those who drank it delirious. The crops- diseased or rotten. The animals and the people…” He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence, but Arthur remembered the reports of widespread starvation and plague. To think all that was Merlin’s doing? “There is no amount of healing magic that can atone for my sins. And my magic is- it was like forcing it though ice. It’s freezing into shards the more he uses it, and I don’t know how to stop it-” His voice was cracking and afraid, and Arthur understood that the coldness of his hands, the freezing touch of his magic wasn’t how it used to be. How it ought to be.</p><p>“Why would he have you mend it?” He prompted, and Merlin still wouldn’t look at him.</p><p>“I meant to tell you, last time. Before- before my magic- before I hurt you.” He was talking about when he’d frozen half the field and Arthur hadn’t realized how upset the other was by it. “My father… he’s made himself king.” </p><p>He had not been expecting that. There was no time to clarify because Merlin began speaking raggedly, as if forcing the story out as fast as he could.</p><p>“He was meant to be king, before, but he had been banished for using magic. No one is supposed to use it, yet I have done it since birth if what Gaius said is true. Apparently, magic is only in the blood of royalty, and he never told me. He never even explained it. It means that Freya- she was probably related to me! Then he made me kill my <i>uncle</i> and- and I have a sister. Did you know that? Her name is Morgana. She’s magic, too and my father would have me kill her if she even looks at him wrong. Which she’s going to do, I just know it. So he’ll probably kill her anyway, because he said she killed our mother- I didn’t even know what happened to her. He never said. And all this time he was just waiting to have his revenge. I killed so many people, I poisoned the land, blotted the sun from the sky, all just so he could turn it back now. They think he saved them. They practically worship him. And even-” </p><p>Arthur cut him off, swallowing the rising lump in his throat as his palm covered Merlin’s mouth. “You don’t need to tell me.” He said, even as Merlin gazed at him with tortured eyes. The tears filming them glowed with the magic in his eyes.</p><p>“But-” Merlin tried to speak around his hand, and he pulled away. “You have to know what I’ve done. You have to know. I can never fix it. Something is wrong with me. It’s as if my magic is broken.” And the tears spilled down his cheeks.</p><p>“I know.” Arthur soothed, brushing the hot drops away. “I saw already. It will be okay, Merlin. I believe in you.”</p><p>“How can you?” He gasped, dragging the sleeve of his tunic across his face.</p><p>“Merlin.” He groaned, desperate to show him how he just <i>knew</i>, how he’d felt it time and again. “You’ve shown me that magic is in everything, that it’s beautiful. And yours- it still is. I’ll help you heal it. Please. Just let me.”</p><p>Merlin was shaking his head, his body trembling as his pale skin began to glow with a gentle white light, the breath from his mouth was starting to fog. He was losing control, and Arthur didn’t know if he should hold onto him or give him space. </p><p>Arthur wanted so badly to use his newfound magic to just fix everything, but he didn’t know enough to do so yet.</p><p>Merlin didn't resist or pull away when Arthur gave in to the decision to cup his jaw in his hands, fingers moving up to sweep his fringe from his eyes. Merlin’s face was like ice, and each touch made his fingers tingle. He had longed to touch him like this for more days than he could bear admit, and he wanted to replace the path of his hand with his lips, finding his heart pounding in his ears as Merlin’s eyelids fluttered closed beneath his touch. </p><p>Frost was spreading across his cheek, the tips of his hair curling into icicles, and Arthur searched for the little pool of warmth that was his magic. He could do this, he could use it to thaw him.  </p><p>He leaned closer, resting his forehead against Merlin’s and breathing out what felt like a plume of fire in the chilled space between them. The next moment he pressed their lips together, the bite of cold invading his mouth and clutching his throat even as Merlin yielded to him so sweetly. </p><p>It burned where they touched, and Arthur wanted to fist both hands in his silky hair and pull him impossibly closer. To steal his breath away with more kisses and pour his magic into him. To let him know just how much Merlin was starting to mean to him. And then he felt wintry air surround him, curling about him like a cloak, and he tried to make his magic warm through his very skin like it had done before.</p><p>“No.” Merlin choked against his mouth just as Arthur felt his magic spark in his fingertips in triumph. “You mustn’t.” He tried weakly to pull away, even has his hands came up to clasp around Arthur’s to hold him in place. “It feels so <i>wrong</i>, like it’s trying hurt you- I can’t control it!”</p><p>He suddenly knocked Arthur’s hands away, bolting to his feet and putting space between them. He wrapped his arms about himself, shivering visibly as his face contorted with the effort of fighting it down.</p><p>He was entrancing in the wavering glow of white light, sharp shadows and gently highlighted lines that reminded Arthur of moonlight, looking ethereal and fragile and yet no less beautiful than he was when bathed in firelight.</p><p>“No, Arthur.” Merlin grit out. “Look at me.” Arthur couldn’t stop looking. “This isn’t right. It’s like a creature that wants nothing but your magic. And if I let it- if I take your magic, you will die!” </p><p>“I won’t let that happen.” Arthur promised, and Merlin merely growled at him in clear frustration. </p><p>“You don’t even know what you’re saying!” Merlin exploded. “I realized that I’ve done it before. It’s how I killed Freya. And now, it’s taking me over. Soon there won’t be anything left but that monster.”</p><p>“You’re not a monster. And it’s not some sentient thing, surely.” Arthur argued. “I can feel magic, now. I can feel how it’s just part of me. And yours- yours is so damaged because of what that vile man has done to you.” He gentled his voice. “Nothing is too ruined to save. Not you, not your magic. Please, Merlin. I promise you. I wont leave you alone.”</p><p>He was making Merlin cry again, but at least that illuminating light was fading and he seemed to be warming. Arthur wanted to touch him, but the other kept the space between them cautiously. </p><p>“Well, then.” He searched for a way to lighten the mood. He was so glad Merlin was here again, he didn’t want to give him any reason to run from him. “I’ve had about enough of dancing creatures and singing flowers, how about you teach me some real magic? Or else you could find me a sword, and I can show you what a true knight of Alba looks like.”</p><p>The small smile Merlin mustered for him wasn’t strong enough to warm eyes that looked shattered, but he was trying. And Arthur would have to keep at it, keep trying until he could keep his promises.</p><p>Merlin wasn’t able to turn up a sword, but he did start lobbing produce at Arthur’s head until he was finally able to throw up a gossamer thin shield to protect himself. He was so shocked he had accomplished it that he lost his grip on it and the next vegetable, that damn cabbage, slugged him in the gut. </p><p>Despite the exhaustion he felt after performing the magic, he had decidedly better aim than Merlin did, and he didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed throwing food so much in his life even as their food fight lay waste to the garden. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>They lingered at the house for as long as Merlin deemed it safe, telling him his father had instructed him to gather certain supplies and to also complete a specific task after they were to leave this place. </p><p>Merlin was going to bring him to Camelot, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about finally going to the place he should have been all along. Now, the place was host to both traitors and a vengeful sorcerer king, and he was just one man. One man and Merlin. Knowing what he did of Merlin’s absolute power, though, made him doubly thankful he could call him friend. And he was definitely thinking of him as more than friend.</p><p>“I wasn’t joking when I asked you to find me a sword, Merlin?” He groused at him as the other ducked into the hut to get the things his father requested. “At least bring some of those knives!” He called through the door. A muffled sound of affirmation came back to him.</p><p>He wanted a way to defend himself that didn’t sap all his energy with one spell. With Merlin’s magic bound, the two of them would be nearly defenseless on their journey to the castle. Arthur was no less deadly with knives, but he longed to feel the weight of a full weapon in his palm. </p><p>Arthur wandered out in the field to wait for Merlin rather than enter into the workroom. He hadn’t been back there since the sorcerer had left, and would never willingly step foot in that horrid place ever again.</p><p>He headed towards the forest, following the bent stalks and slightly downtrodden path through the grass that indicated Merlin’s passage that morning. He knew he wouldn’t be able to pass through the barrier spell, but supposed that Merlin would follow him out soon enough.</p><p>He was so focused on the path at his feet, that he nearly ran headfirst into the wall of magic, looking up at the last moment to step back quickly in shock. There in front of him was a knight of Camelot, gaping at him from the other side of the impassible ward. </p><p>They stared at each other for a moment, as Arthur noticed he looked rather familiar, those flowing brown locks of hair and artful rugged scruff along his jaw. It came to him slowly, as the last time he’d seen the man was rather clouded over in a fog of betrayal and horror he’d spent many days trying not to dwell on.</p><p>“Um- Hello. Sir…Gwaine, wasn’t it?” Arthur greeted awkwardly, and the man’s jaw actually dropped open in shock. Arthur cleared his throat as he looked over the man carefully, noting the sword at his hip and the wicked looking knife in his belt. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Gwaine seemed lost for words as he looked Arthur up and down. “I was- I mean-“ He stuttered, “we were following the trail of…the sorcerer-?“ He couldn’t seem to help himself, “Pardon me, but…weren’t you supposed to be-” He trailed off awkwardly.</p><p>“Unable to talk?” Arthur prompted, raising one eyebrow.</p><p>Gwaine’s expression turned serious. “Dead.” </p><p>Arthur’s humor also vanished. “If my traitorous knights had their way, I would have been.” He paused for a moment, before blurting out, “I’m Arthur.”</p><p>He let that sink in, watching to see if the man would draw a weapon. Even unarmed as he was, he was fairly sure the knight could no more pass through the barrier than he could, and it meant he wouldn’t have to try and wrestle a blade away from him should it come to that. </p><p>Gwaine just squinted at him. “As in…Prince Arthur?”</p><p>“Of Alba, yes.” Arthur said. “Has no one yet uncovered the plot, then?”</p><p>“I’m going to have to say that’s a no.” Gwaine said, a slow smile of disbelief crossing his face as he shook his head slowly. “I must admit, this is quite the drama. If you were to be believed.”</p><p>Arthur glowered at him, “Oh, trust me when I say those cowards will not continue to get away with it for much longer. Did they seriously think no one would ever send word, nor ever visit from Alba?”</p><p>Gwaine didn’t reply right away, something dark crossing his face. “You don’t know, do you?” At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, he let out a slow controlled breath. “We are at war. Alba’s army is marching as we speak.”</p><p>The bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach, and Arthur’s mind went blank for one long impossible moment. Before he could demand the man explain himself, tell him everything he knew, Gwaine’s open demeanor suddenly shifted, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword as he locked fierce eyes on something behind Arthur.</p><p>“Arthur-?“ His voice was taught with warning, and Arthur turned quickly, reaching for his own weapon which was not there, to see- </p><p>Merlin. He relaxed.</p><p>Stomping through the grass like an idiot, Merlin once again had that ridiculous big hood of his drawn up over his face. Now that he knew what lay beyond that shroud, the gentle, clumsy fool who wore his heart on his sleeve, and the kind of man that he truly was, he couldn’t see how anyone could find him terrifying. Did Gwaine not see the way his boot caught on a root, how he nearly sent himself face first into the dirt just now?</p><p>“Trying to look all big and scary, now, Merlin?” He teased as the man drew near, adjusting the pack across his back. </p><p>Under the hood twin points of light narrowed in his direction, and Arthur bit back a smile.</p><p>He covered up his fond amusement with a roll of his eyes, reaching out the moment Merlin came abreast of him to wrap one arm about that long neck, tucking Merlin down into his side as his other hand came up to rub his knuckles hard over the crown of his head.</p><p>“Uhg!” Merlin groaned, trying to twist away from him. “By the <i>goddess</i>, let go of me, you great- oaf!” </p><p>He was weak as a kitten and as helpless as one too, all flailing limbs and sharp elbows, and Arthur threw his head back and laughed until one pointy jab caught him right in the ribs and his breath left him in a rush.</p><p>He redoubled his efforts with vigor. </p><p>“All behold the fearsome sorcerer Merlin.” He grinned down at the struggling form. “Come on, Merlin, put a little effort into it now.”  </p><p>Over to one side he vaguely saw the way that two more knights were coming to join Gwaine, who was staring at them perplexed, lifting one hand without taking his eyes off of them to comment to the others, “Lance, tell me I’m not the only one who is seeing this right now.” </p><p>And the dark-haired knight he also thought looked familiar laughed openly. His face was still kind.</p><p>But then Merlin was jabbing his elbow into his stomach again, and Arthur growled as he stopped knuckling him to dig his fingers into his skinny waist instead. Merlin doubled over with a peal of <i>laughter</i>, and Arthur’s heart nearly stopped. </p><p>His hands fell away from Merlin in shock, and then he was reaching for that damned hood, because he couldn’t even- he had to just <i>see</i>. </p><p>Merlin wheezed, hands resting on his knees as he turned to look up at him. His cheeks were flushed about those high cheekbones, and gods save him, he dimpled when he laughed. And those golden eyes were dancing and gazing at him with such warmth. </p><p>Arthur felt something settle gently into place in his chest. This was Merlin. This was the man he wanted to save. </p><p>Merlin’s smile faded as Arthur just stared down at him stupidly, his heart stuck in his throat, and when someone awkwardly cleared their throat in the ensuing silence, Merlin froze like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter’s bow.</p><p>It was so sad, the way Merlin seemed to be more afraid of those knights than Arthur had ever seen him to be in front of his monster of a father. He wondered if anyone had ever seen his real face. If they had, they would have surely seen what he did. Without that hood to hide behind, he was nothing more than a gangly, skinny youth with ridiculous ears, who had been abused to the point of nearly losing himself, and Arthur’s chest ached for him.</p><p>He could see the way Merlin’s fingers twitched, desperately wanting to cover himself and stop feeling that scrutiny, but he wouldn’t let him. “Wait.” He said, giving him a long look that he hoped conveyed how much he cared how Merlin was struggling right now. </p><p>Merlin swallowed thickly and bowed his head slightly, turning his face away, but he didn’t reach for his hood. </p><p>Arthur turned back to regard the men standing before them, and he didn’t know why but he didn’t feel threatened by this ragtag band of knights. They seemed noble enough, and as he was supposed to be the man marrying their princess, he did have a modicum of authority over them. It would do them all well to have some allies in this war to come. </p><p>The thought sobered him quickly. War. How had this happened? And, gods, would Leon be the one to lead the march? How could he not when he heard the news that the kingdom he’d sent his only brother to in order to broker peace, was now mobilizing against them? He probably thought Arthur dead. And he nearly had been. He still could be. And this was not helping. </p><p>He needed to focus on what he had to work with, needed information, preferably a weapon, and some men on his side. Then, he would fix this. </p><p>Without the use of his magic, Merlin had to cut himself and write a rune with his own blood on Arthur’s brow to allow him to pass through the wards. Arthur insisted on wrapping some cloth about the wound himself, ignoring the wary looks of the knights at Merlin’s actions, and mourning the way Merlin was so diminished in this manner.</p><p>He paused before addressing the others, glancing back to Merlin. </p><p>He wanted to take that shackle off of Merlin, to protect him from those who would use him or condemn him, and prove to them all that his trust was not misplaced. Squaring his shoulders, Arthur turned back to the knights. He would need all the help he could get.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin wasn’t sure how he felt about the three knights that Arthur had picked up following them. He knew them by sight, had seen them tracking him and his father, hunting them, for years. They never had a chance against magic, and Merlin’s cursed forest and impenetrable wards had kept them safe and untraceable. Until now.</p><p>The curse must be losing its potency as Merlin slowly healed the land one spell at a time. It must have been how the knights were able to follow him and find their home. </p><p>Arthur was chatting with them as if they were mates, and while, yes, they were not attempting to attack him or chop off his head, he had no reason to trust them.</p><p>He realized that now his father was king there would be no more witch hunts. These men were to fight for magic now, but after the way he’d slaughtered their brethren before their eyes during that one patrol, he doubted they would ever bow to it. Maybe they would bow to Arthur, however, as he was the one who was supposed to sit on the throne. </p><p>Merlin could support that. He would have to have a chat with them, to tell them they could kill him after he was sure Arthur and his crown were safe.</p><p>Right now, Merlin had nothing to defend himself with. No magic. No father. He had silently handed two knives over to Arthur watching in fascination as he nimbly spun them between confident fingers. His throat had gone dry before Arthur had noticed him staring, and Merlin looked up in time to see a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Merlin, no belt?” He demanded rudely, and Merlin smirked at him as he blustered to cover his embarrassment. </p><p>One of the knights had kindly provided Arthur with a few mismatch pieces of armor, most importantly a belt, and promised him the sword Merlin couldn’t once they reached the castle. </p><p>Merlin didn’t want to put those men at his back, but none of them knew the way to the crystal, and he had to do that first.</p><p>When the black decay of a once magnificent tree finally came into view at last, Merlin saw it with new eyes as he listened to the shocked, disgusted, reactions of the men. He had never felt so shamed, and he hated Arthur for a moment when he stopped beside him and asked, with horror coloring his voice, “What is this?” </p><p>He was really asking: <i>what have you done?</i>, and Merlin couldn’t bear to explain it. It would be apparent soon enough once the fragile tether shattered. </p><p>“You should be the one to break it.” He answered instead.</p><p>Arthur turned to him with a frown. He caught sight of Merlin’s face and his expression instantly smoothed. He must be remembering how Merlin was supposed to be undoing all his curses, and this one screamed <i>wrong</i> so loudly even those without magic could probably feel it.</p><p>“How?” His tone was so gentle now, and Merlin wanted to wrap his arms around him. Instead he settled for curling his fingers into the fabric of Arthur’s sleeve. It was warm from the heat of his skin. He was always so warm.</p><p>“You won’t need a spell.” He said, glancing warily at the knights. </p><p>The one with fancy hair, Gwaine, was slowly circling the tree with a look of fascination. The dark one, called Lancelot, was watching Arthur and Merlin with eyes that were much too knowing. Percy had his giant arms crossed over his chest as he took in the scene, the arm his father had broken looked to be fully mended, and Merlin hadn't realized how much time had passed since Arthur had come into his life.  </p><p>“What does it do?” Gwaine was indicating the crystal, and Merlin didn’t give him an answer.</p><p>“We will find out soon enough.” Arthur replied, giving Merlin a small reassuring smile. “So, a little muscle can best magic for once?” He winked. </p><p>Merlin managed a small smile in return, then he frowned. “There might be backlash. What if you’re hurt? Wait. I think I should just do it-”</p><p>“No.” Arthur said. “I want to. I told you I would share your burden.” </p><p>With that he marched up to the tree and rolled up his sleeves, reaching for a knife. He motioned for the knights to stand back and turned to check with Merlin if it was sufficient. Merlin shrugged; he really had no idea what would happen.</p><p>Facing the tree, Arthur wasted no time in lifting the knife and bringing it down forcefully right onto the face of the glowing crystal. The thing screamed like air channeled through a chasm, and then it shattered with a flash of light, a fierce bolt of power radiating from it and knocking them all to the ground. The sky above them rumbled loudly, and Merlin gazed up at the suddenly roiling black clouds with his heart caught in his throat. </p><p>It seemed he would have to wait for his sunshine. </p><p>Lightning forked, the clouds lighting purple around it, while a great wind stirred the forest with its breath. It was warm. </p><p>The air was growing heavier with each breath he took, and it felt charged full of pent up energy, a storm that had been brewing for too many very long years. Merlin’s head felt stuffy with the pressure of it. It felt like his magic when his father didn’t use enough of it, trapped and building painfully until it crushed against the restraints, and he felt the rising urge to scream. </p><p>And then the rain came down.</p><p>It pelted the ground with vengeance, thick sheets of water cascading from the heavens in endless streams. It felt like small pebbles striking his upturned face, but Merlin didn’t try to cover himself. He let it come. He wanted it to hurt him, to thunder down on this small human form that dared to imprison the sky. </p><p>Arthur was suddenly hunching over him, trying to shield him with his body as wide blue eyes searched his face. </p><p>“Are you hurt?” He had to shout over the sound of the deluge, and Merlin didn’t try to speak, just shaking his head as Arthur slipped an arm under his shoulders to sit him up. </p><p>He reached for Arthur’s other hand. Arthur returned the grip, his fingers firm and reassuring. Merlin’s were trembling, whether from the insidious cold or from the way he felt to be shaking apart he wasn’t sure. </p><p>He could barely see Arthur’s face through the water that blinded him, but he tugged Arthur’s hand towards his face, pressed his lips to the warm skin of the back of it and lingered as long as he dared.</p><p>Arthur was staring at him with those bright blue eyes, as if Merlin was more important than the miracle of rain, and even with water dripping off his nose and his blond hair plastered to his head, he was so beautiful. Merlin wanted to kiss him. He would have done so if they weren’t suddenly interrupted by gales of delighted laughter.</p><p>Gwaine was so loudly happy, dragging a reluctant but quietly beaming Percival around in circles, splashing in the quickly pooling water while Lancelot stood still, his face upturned to the rain that pelted him mercilessly.</p><p>Arthur didn’t realize how long it had been. He didn’t realize how significant this was. </p><p>His eyes turned to the tree that had been brutalized for this spell. It had splintered with the surge of magic and he couldn’t believe he let Arthur stand so close to where he could have easily been struck or impaled. The shattered black stump was listing slowly to one side as the rain sank into the depleted soil festering with rotted roots. Arthur followed his gaze and then got to his feet, tugging him up to lead him over to it.</p><p>Arthur didn’t release his hold on him even as he reached out to place his other hand against the tree. His face scrunched in concentration, and Merlin could <i>feel</i> it when he successfully called his magic to the fore. The warm spark of it caused an almost instantaneous prick in his chest, and Merlin ripped his hand away before the coldness could properly rouse. </p><p>Arthur glanced over at him in confusion before he seemed to remember what the touch of his magic did to Merlin. He looked as if he were going to bring up his same arguments again, but then decided against it, indicating the tree instead.</p><p>“It’s not yet dead. I could feel it, like a hot spark.” His wide smile at the joy of using his magic, at the life still clinging to that ugly stump was so endearing Merlin reached out to place his own hand beside his, wanting to feel it, too. But what he felt was only faint echoes of a heartbeat that was so weak, so tired. </p><p>It was sad and dying, but Arthur seemed to think it was something to smile about. </p><p>“It’s dying, Arthur.” He whispered sadly. “Don’t you feel how the magic is leaving it? It wont be long, just- look at it.”</p><p>Arthur was looking at him, instead, his face gone hard. “So you’re saying it’s not worth saving? I think I could do it. I could give it strength, bring it back before it’s too late.”</p><p>Merlin could hit him over the head for being stupidly stubborn. “This is the course of nature, of magic, and I don’t think even I could heal it. Besides, you said the daisy knocked you out. A tree would do ten times that, if not more. Just leave it, Arthur.”</p><p>“Why?” He sounded angry and Merlin swallowed around a lump in his throat. Why was Arthur getting so cross over something that was just part of life? “Why shouldn’t I share my magic with something that needs it more than I? What’s a little of my strength lost, when it could save a life?” </p><p>His anger had turned into something imploring, and Merlin could barely stand to look at him for how earnestly <i>noble</i> he was. It made Merlin feel cruel for wanting to leave a tree to die when there was no saving it.</p><p>“You can’t save everything just by forcing magic into it.” He grit out, but he was starting to get the impression that Arthur hadn’t actually been talking about the tree from nearly the start of this argument. The stubborn git. He couldn’t let the self-sacrificing idiot try to give him his magic. “You can’t save <i>me</i>.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but…there it was.</p><p>Arthur glared at him, “That’s not for you to decide, it is?” And then the utter <i>idiot</i> turned to the blackened wreck, slammed his hands against it and <i>shoved</i>. </p><p>The blast of magic knocked Merlin back a step and he watched the strained set of Arthur’s shoulders as he struggled to conform it to his will, garbling out the growing spell as he let his magic flow unhindered. </p><p>Merlin knew what would happen if he kept this up. Arthur still didn’t know how magic worked, the balance that would right itself regardless of how it tipped. There was no use in forcing something that was already decided, and Arthur would just tire himself needlessly.</p><p>He hesitated, meant to reach out and pull Arthur away before he collapsed, but suddenly Arthur was falling to his knees with a strangled cry. His instinctive burst of magic had receded quickly, and it seemed he couldn’t figure out how to hold onto it. </p><p>He bowed his head to rest his forehead on the rain-slick bark and Merlin’s heart ached for him. </p><p>Arthur’s hand trailed along the wood and Merlin knew what he would say before the words floated through the rush of rain. “It’s gone.” He took a shuddering breath. “I felt it working, and then- I don’t understand.”</p><p>Merlin let his fingers brush Arthur’s shoulder, and the other turned his head to press his cheek against them. </p><p>“Will you let me teach you…another day?” Merlin offered. Arthur twisted to look up at him with dark eyes. Merlin pulled his hand away. </p><p>“I <i>will</i> save you.” He promised. “But I fear I may fail if you don’t help me.” Merlin nodded his head, but it seemed he’d misunderstood. “We need to stop your father, Merlin. Whatever it takes, he needs to take off that bracelet, and then you need to help me stop him.” </p><p>Merlin couldn’t breathe for the sudden crippling fear of it, the scope of what Arthur was asking of him. </p><p>“I can’t do it without you, Merlin.” Arthur pleaded. “Alba knows nothing of magic. They have nothing to fight against it, and this war will be a massacre. You know he won’t stop until he’s taken all the kingdoms of Albion. You know he won’t stop until he’s broken your magic beyond repair. You are the critical piece; without you he won’t succeed. You know this.” </p><p>This man, this king, was kneeling before him in the mud, asking him to save the world, and Merlin just <i>couldn’t</i>- Arthur wrapped both warm hands around one of Merlin’s. </p><p>“I believe in your heart; I trust you with mine. Please. We can do this. We have to do this.” The words struck Merlin like a blow, and he clutched at the hands around his. He could see the fear in Arthur’s eyes, the doubt. He must know there was no way to stop his father, that Merlin was helpless against him, yet he still was so determined to try.</p><p>“I can’t.” He choked out. “I’m not like you, I’m not a warrior. I am not strong enough.” </p><p>Arthur rose to his feet, the fire in his eyes trying to convince him he was wrong. “You have me. I’ll be your strength.” </p><p>“Arthur-”</p><p>“I will be your strength.” He repeated, nothing but honesty and faith in his eyes. “Just give me your trust, that’s all I ask.” </p><p>Merlin yearned to give in, to say yes. But he was terrified he’d fail, that he’d bow to his father the moment he turned back around. How could he possibly hope to overpower him? It went beyond the binding of magic. It was a deeply ingrained fear, a prisoner to his own father, and now that a hand was there offering freedom, he was too coward to take it.</p><p>“I know you are scared.” Arthur soothed, hands coming to grip him by the shoulders. “But, he binds you for a reason. He knows if only you find the courage to stand against him, that you would destroy him.”</p><p>“I don’t want to destroy him.” Merlin spoke up at last, defending the very man who was intending to dominate the entire land. But he was still his father, and no matter how impassioned Arthur’s speech, he didn’t think he could ever purposely kill his own father. </p><p>“Then you make him weak, you take his power, and I will take care of the rest.” Arthur shook him gently. “There is no other way.”</p><p>And Merlin knew it was the truth. </p><p>He could feel himself caving in, turning towards a choice that would change everything. He wanted so badly to be worthy of Arthur’s trust, to bask in that devotion he didn’t deserve. He knew he couldn’t do all that Arthur expected of him, but he could give him his magic willingly. He would give it as willingly as he found himself agreeing to follow him when he asked. </p><p>He felt there was nothing he wouldn’t give Arthur. </p><p>His magic would be for Arthur. He would give it to him. And then… he could do something that had never even crossed his mind. He’d never even considered it, but it now formed so obviously before him. He could take his father’s magic, and he wouldn’t be able to stop him. He could take all of it, and his father would be dead. Arthur wouldn’t even have to fight, wouldn’t need to risk his life. </p><p>Merlin could end it all even if it broke him. It didn’t matter what became of him, because Arthur would be worth it. </p><p>The rain had not stopped, but it had lessened in intensity. The ground beneath them was already turning to flood, and they were wading through mud and water with each step. Merlin dreaded to find out what was happening down in the valley, and he could only assume his magic would be used to tend to it as soon as they got back. They had already lingered much too long.</p><p>Once they had huddled together to explain their slowly forming plan, Merlin was shocked to see Arthur more than prove his ability to properly measure a man. To a man, the knights of Camelot pledged him their swords and their lives without hesitation. Arthur seemed able to inspire loyalty in the heart of any man, even a sorcerous monster like Merlin, and he should have known Arthur wouldn’t have suffered their company had he not seen something worthy in their hearts. </p><p>Merlin felt humbled to be included in those Arthur seemed to trust, and he tried to straighten his spine, to meet them all in the eye as he stuttered through his own sort of vow.</p><p>He nearly jumped out of his skin when Lancelot clapped him on the shoulder with a wide handsome grin, and Gwaine said something smarmy about what he would have done long ago had he known what Merlin was hiding under that hood. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself after that, but Arthur bid them depart and Merlin only too gladly led the way.</p><p>He didn’t want to disappoint Arthur, and while Arthur said he didn’t expect Merlin to be anything but true to himself, he hadn’t realized he would be put to the test so soon. </p><p>He predictably failed, and in hindsight, he should have known it wouldn’t have been so easy. No matter how many revelations he’d gone through in the past twenty-four hours, his father was still in control, still exuded power and confidence, and Merlin shrank before him like a child. </p><p>When he foolishly brought Arthur with him to report to his father, giving into Arthur’s firm refusal to let him go alone, he realized his first mistake. And then it was already too late. </p><p>His father used magic to pin Arthur to a chair, and barely looked at Merlin before he was dismissing him, telling him to go wait for him on the lower ramparts. </p><p>Merlin remained frozen to the spot. He had meant to keep Arthur away from him, but anything he said now would show his father that he cared too much, that he was starting to think for himself again. His resolve wavered.</p><p>Arthur was staring at him from his seat, expression earnest as if trying to tell him something, but Merlin had no idea what. He hesitated, the panic slowly rising despite his best efforts. </p><p>Looking to his father, the thought crossed his mind again. He could do it. He could reach out and touch him. He could stop holding the ice back and force that magic to wake for once, to answer his call. He could just let it take what it wanted. </p><p>But he knew his father would try to stop him, would probably know exactly how to tamp this broken beast down just like the rest of his magic. Merlin would no doubt fail and, in the attempt, show their hand too soon. He was still bound and weak, unable to protect Arthur should his father use him against him. He feared another session involving blood runes. He didn’t doubt it would come to that. </p><p>He couldn’t do it.</p><p>All his frantic reasoning meant nothing when at the end of it, he was just a coward. This time, when his father looked at him sharply and repeated the dismissal with a curt, “Get out.”, Merlin did as he was told. </p><p>He lifted pleading eyes to Arthur, who just nodded at him with such trusting blue eyes, before he turned his back on him, his heart breaking in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>********************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fiiinally Arthur is in Camelot!!<br/>I have honestly gotten pretty confused with how much time is supposed to have passed so far here...XD never sat down to actually write a timeline ^x^;<br/>but, like Merthur's devotion isn't too rushed, is it? I usually go for slow burn, but I guess when they know, they know. Dire situations + two sides of a coin and soulmates and all? :D<br/>Thank you soo much for reading! More up tmrw ^3^~&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Arthur was glad the sorcerer sent Merlin away. He couldn’t bear it if Merlin was made to watch whatever the man had planned. Or worse, make Merlin do it.</p><p>It had been so long since Merlin was forced to hurt him, and after all they’d come to share with one another, he wasn’t sure Merlin would do as he was told. He could still remember the pain of his heart being crushed in his chest and he didn’t want to find out what else this mad man would be willing to do to in order to command Merlin's obedience. </p><p>The man in question was looking after Merlin with a frown on his face, and Arthur clenched his jaw to try and keep from speaking his mind now that he had the power to do so. He probably wouldn’t be able to keep the secret long, but he hoped at worst he would just take it away again.</p><p>He was now the focus of that scrutiny, and seeing him here in this setting, a man crowned king and at ease in his total authority, made Arthur feel both unease and swiftly rising anger. </p><p>It didn’t matter if he had once held claim to this crown, he had lost his right to it when he decided to use his people and land as pawns in a game. He had gone too far, and didn’t seem to care who or what he ruined in his revenge. Not to mention the torture he’d put Arthur through and the heartless abuse of his own son. It indicated a man fully turned towards darkness, and any lingering efforts to understand his motives had long evaporated. </p><p>He would bring this man to justice. </p><p>“You do not deserve to call yourself king.” He blurted, unable to keep the anger from coloring his voice, and the sorcerer regarded him with mild surprise. Arthur grit his teeth when the man just smiled slowly in response.</p><p>“I see Merlin is growing much too fond of you.” He said. He didn’t seem unhappy about it.</p><p>Arthur knew admitting the same would only give the man another way to control them, but he could never back down from a fight. “I won’t let you hurt him anymore.”</p><p>The sorcerer’s smile turned condescending. “I don’t think you are in a position to make such claims.” </p><p>He turned to the table that was spread with an open book and a range of ingredients. Rummaging through the bag Merlin had brought, he set to work mixing his potions and Arthur glared at him when he came to take some of his blood. The man met his gaze with dark eyes and turned away without healing the cut.</p><p>The room was filled with a tense silence as he prepared for his spell, the flame above which he worked lighting his face and throwing the rest of the room into shadow. Beyond the window was nothing but a dark sheet of rain. Arthur shifted in his place, his clothes still uncomfortably damp from their earlier walk. His attention returned to the table as the small fire flared crimson. </p><p>Wisps of thick smoke began to curl from what burned inside, growing in volume as the sorcerer now began chanting. The air in the room became heavy, a physical pressure crushing against his temples before the red flame sunk into itself for a single heartbeat. The next moment it exploded with a whoosh of heat that Arthur could feel from across the room. </p><p>The smoke was now rising as if alive, twisting and running upon the air. Arthur could only watch with resignation, shivering as it reached him at last to slip and curl about his body in white vapors. It almost felt like a caress, gentle yet dangerous all in one fragile moment. He tried to take a slow breath to steady his nerves, but before he could the smoke suddenly swirled into action, circling his head and forcing itself into his mouth, nose, and ears.</p><p>Arthur’s head knocked against the back of the chair, struggling weakly against the magic that bound him as he suffocated on it. It was warm and thick, and tasted of blood in the back of his throat. No matter how he coughed and twisted he couldn’t dispel it, and he felt as the magic of it seeped into his mind. </p><p>It was as soft billows of cotton, sponging away vivid colors, sounds, and emotions. It soaked them greedily into its nothingness and Arthur fought it valiantly, begging his own magic to help him. He didn’t know what it was doing, but he felt something glow warm deep in his chest and a moment later the smoke was retreating. </p><p>It left him dazed and slumped in the chair as it wafted back across the room to disappear against the sorcerer’s palm. </p><p>He was watching Arthur with gleaming eyes as he walked over to loom over him.</p><p>“I am going to tell you what must happen. You will do as I say, <i>Arthur</i>.” The words swirled and tumbled through his head, his chest hitching at the magic infusing his name and part of Arthur felt compelled to listen, to do whatever this man was to tell him. </p><p>Another part of him felt far away, observing the scene from a place of detachment, and he could literally feel it when the sorcerer forced his words into the magic still clouding Arthur’s mind. </p><p>“You must give your magic to Merlin. Give him all of it, and that beautiful creature will fully wake at last.” He smiled down at him. “You can see it, can’t you? Yearning to be free. How magnificent and powerful he will be if you just let him have you. Even if he resists you, tells you not to, tries to evade you. You must do this.” </p><p>His smile had turned into something manic and hard, a fanatic gleam in his eyes as he pressed harder with his magic, and Arthur’s eyes felt to be crushed in their sockets as the words echoed and reverberated endlessly. </p><p><i>Give him your magic. Give him everything. No matter what- you must do this. Do it. You must.</i> </p><p>Arthur couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more. </p><p>The man was right. He had seen it, and he wanted so badly to help Merlin, to heal the wounded creature that was his magic. Merlin was beautiful. His magic was beautiful. If Merlin didn’t have the strength to trust in it himself, Arthur would do it for him. He already knew he had to give him his own magic. He’d already promised himself he would do it. </p><p>And now he was sure he couldn’t even think of anything else until it was done. </p><p>He found himself to be free to move and stood from the chair with determination. He couldn’t linger any longer, it was imperative that he go do this before anything else. He had to find Merlin <i>now</i>. </p><p>In his blind rush through unknown corridors, he was shaken from his compulsion when he turned a corner and literally ran into someone. His hands automatically reached out to steady them both, clasping about boney elbows before he lifted his eyes to see a swath of black curls and large blue eyes. And through his haze he thought he heard a stuttered, <i>Arthur?</i> before those eyes filled with horror, and the person, <i>Mordred</i> was shoving away from him roughly.  </p><p>He looked awful. Arthur almost hadn’t been able to recognize the round-faced brash youth he’d once known so well. Before him was someone more skeleton than man, sunken cheeks and eyes much too large for his face. He looked at Arthur as if he’d seen a ghost, fingers that had gone boney shaking as they lifted to press against his temples. </p><p>As the moment stretched Arthur came back to himself bit by bit, the small part of his rationality he seemed to have retained through the grace of his own magic helping him to focus on the man before him. </p><p>He had thought that if he ever saw Mordred again, he would not hesitate to bring judgement and punishment upon his traitorous head without a second thought. Elyan was dead because of him. He had betrayed his prince, his friend, and tried to kill him. </p><p>He didn’t think he could ever forgive him.</p><p>But seeing him now, Arthur saw a ruin of person. He looked half mad out of his mind, the twitching of his facial muscles erratic and unsettling. His eyes flit about the corridor, always returning to Arthur, but unable to seem to <i>see</i> him. His fingers absently tore at his own skin, and Arthur could see traces of red scabs already there. </p><p>“How are you here?” Mordred rasped, sounding terrified. “You can’t- you can’t <i>be</i> here!” </p><p>All a sudden his vulnerability shattered and quicker than thought he had lunged into him, knocking him against the wall with a knife at his throat. His eyes were blazing blue fire and the crazed look in them alerted all of Arthur’s senses. His own knife was already resting along Mordred’s ribs, ready to defend himself.</p><p>“You can’t have her.” Mordred hissed, the knife pressing deep enough to break skin. Arthur readied his own blade, still reluctant despite everything to drive it into flesh. </p><p>“Who are you talking about?” Arthur grit out.</p><p>Mordred’s eyes shuttered. “My Lady Morgana.” He drew in a breath, before screaming in Arthur’s face, “I won’t let you take her from me!” </p><p>He was lifting the knife back wildly, intent to kill, and Arthur reacted without thought. His magic rushed to him easier than ever before, and the second Mordred’s weapon made impact with his shield he flew backwards to slam against the far wall. His knife went skidding into shadow and he crumpled on the floor groaning. </p><p>Arthur blinked in surprise, regarding Mordred through the golden sheen of air that seemed so effortless and strong to him now. He had no idea why he’d reached for magic before the knife in his hand, but he was glad he didn’t have someone he once called friend bleeding to death before him. He pressed his palm to it with a thought and it fizzled to nothing. </p><p>Mordred was looking up at him, the fear back on his face and Arthur still didn’t want to hurt him.</p><p>“You will not touch me again, Mordred. I show you my mercy and I expect you to honor it.” He returned his knife to its place. “I will fight to save this kingdom, but if you try to stand against me, I will have no choice but to kill you. Should we prevail, the Princess Morgana will be under my protection. And you shall face your trial.” He stared down at him with hard eyes. “Should you choose to fight with us, I may find it in my heart to be more lenient with you.” </p><p>Mordred scoffed at him, dropping his head back to the floor in defeat. “You always were too noble.” He slurred before his eyes rolled to whites and he started shivering uncontrollably.</p><p>Damn him. Arthur couldn’t just leave him there. </p><p>Traitor that he was, he was out of his mind and half-starved, and Arthur needed to take him to the physician. He had no idea where he could find the man, but it was the least he could do for Mordred who seemed to have lost everything in this gamble he’d taken. Arthur spared a thought for where his other knights may be, and in what condition, before he dragged Mordred’s arm over his shoulders and set off.</p><p>He tried to focus on his current task, his heart speeding in panic at the mere thought that he had to go find Merlin. He needed to fix Merlin, he needed to give him magic- and he couldn’t bear it for knowing it was due to a spell. His rational mind also worried for the other and longed to see him safe, and he was starting to muddle the two the more he tried to separate them. </p><p>Yes, he wanted to give Merlin his magic. No, he didn’t want to force him.</p><p>He felt rather frantic by the time he found the physician and left Mordred with him. He had wasted so much time, and the growing urge to run and run until he found Merlin was starting to take over everything. </p><p>Trying to calm himself, Arthur made his way to where he could hear the still thundering rain grow louder as he approached. Pushing open a door to step out onto a small covered balcony, he let the fresh wet air cool his heated skin and breathed, slow and deep. </p><p>Looking out over the city and the surrounding land, he was pleasantly surprised to see the city wasn’t flooded and in ruins as he had anticipated. Yet upon closer inspection, he realized the water was indeed inundating the town, before it formed a perfect stream that unerringly made its way around homes, and across the town square, and further on rushing uphill and out around the ruined farm land surrounding the lower town until it formed a large, quickly growing reservoir in the small valley that preceded the line of the forest.</p><p>His heart stilled. Merlin had been put to work, and he now remembered how he’d been sent to the lower ramparts. </p><p>The miracle of the water leaving the city and saving it from flood and destruction had not gone unnoticed. Now that he looked, he could see the townsfolk and knights attempting to aid in the bailing of water, but quite a few of them were standing still as they gazed up towards the castle at something out of his line of sight. Merlin must still be out there. </p><p>The sorcerer must be there with him now, using his magic. </p><p>He had to go to him. He had to take Merlin away from his father, keep him safe, and he had to pour every last drop of his magic into him even if he resisted it, told him not to, tried to evade him. Arthur must do it. He wanted nothing more than to do this.</p><p>With a strangled shout Arthur turned on his heel to charge back into the labyrinth of a castle. He couldn’t go to him like this, when his mind was still warped and not his own. Nor could he stay away for fear the sorcerer would break Merlin down even more. He hated to leave him on his own against the monster, but more than anything he just wanted him so <i>badly</i>. He didn’t know whether he ought to give in or resist. </p><p>He charged down the hallways, leaving flustered ladies in his wake, not even knowing where he was headed or what he was to do. Everyone he passed was rushing as well, servants still tasked with keeping the castle running despite the torrential downpour. The nobles and other castle folk seemed subdued and serious, and many tried to halt his determined pacing, but he didn’t heed their demands. </p><p>He would have to reveal and explain himself sometime soon, but while the sorcerer remained king it hardly mattered. The man knew who he was and had tortured him on purpose. There was no point in seeking the trust and support of the nobility in Camelot when he knew nothing of their own involvement with the new king. </p><p>He was a nobody, powerless, and yet for once it suited him as he could move freely and unhindered. His own twisted tale of betrayal and captivity faded into such little importance in the face of what he still needed to do.</p><p>It wasn’t long before he found his way to the royal armory, pleasantly surprised to find it empty. It seemed the crazed war preparations were halted in the face of natural disaster, and he availed himself of the opportunity to find proper gear and sword. He felt much better with the familiar weight on his hip, and with the touch of a red and gold crest on a chest piece, he looked just as any other knight of Camelot.</p><p>The day was growing dim with twilight by the time he left, and hunger had come to sit alongside the anxious pit in his stomach. Finding a meal in the kitchens was his next task, and he left the blessed warmth of the place finally fully dry and with enough extra food to give to Merlin.</p><p>He felt lost and adrift in a strange castle with not a single person to know him. No chambers awaiting him, nor a single friendly face in the halls. That he could walk these halls without being stopped or questioned spoke volumes to the current state of things. He wandered until it was full dark, till servants slipped by him on their rounds lighting torches, and still he wandered. </p><p>He could have cried in relief by the time he caught sight of a familiar hooded figure. He was heading down the corridor from the opposite direction, and Arthur could burst with the sudden pounding of his heart behind his ribs.</p><p>“Merlin!” He cried, startling the other to stumble. </p><p>Arthur was grinning by the time they drew close, and he wasted no time pulling the soaked and shivering man into his arms. Merlin sagged against him, his wet hood and mop of hair drenching Arthur’s shoulder. </p><p>“I couldn’t find you. I checked my father’s chambers and you weren’t there- I thought he’d put you away.” He was mumbling amidst chattering teeth, and arms wound tight around Arthur’s torso like a snare.</p><p>“I’m here.” He soothed. </p><p>“I’m so tired.” Merlin nearly sobbed, his body felt like a block of ice against him. “Arthur-”</p><p>“Where can we go?” He asked, pushing Merlin back to try and look at him properly. </p><p>He couldn’t see for the hood, but didn’t want to force him to be brave just so he could see him. </p><p>Merlin snagged a hand in his sleeve and led him back the way he’d just come. They went up multiple flights of stairs, until he thought they might be going to one of the towers. The final staircase proved his guess right, and the small room atop it was dark and musty. Arthur had to go back for the nearest torch, leaving an exhausted Merlin slumped in the dark. </p><p>By the time he lit the torch inside the door and placed his own in a sconce, he had to shake him awake from where he was dozing against the wall. Something inside him unclenched when he finally pulled Merlin’s hood away to see his face. </p><p>Familiar golden eyes squinted at him blearily, and Arthur manhandled him about until he was able to strip his soaking garments away.</p><p>The skin under his hands was so cold, and he pushed him under the covers of the bed before going to the hearth to see about a fire. It seemed the room was where Merlin had spent the last week, and he found it to be furnished with the bare minimum. Merlin was fully asleep when he finally came back to his side. He could see the full body tremors wracking him even under the blanket. </p><p>Arthur didn’t hesitate to pull off his own tunic and climb into the bed next to him, brushing the damp hair out of his face before laying down to pull the slender frame against his chest snugly. He rubbed slow hands along his arms and back to try and warm him; Merlin didn’t even stir. Each puff of breath against his collarbone was warm, though, not like the cold of when Merlin’s magic fought him, and Arthur relaxed into their embrace.</p><p>It was a long time before it felt like he was holding a person rather than an ice sculpture, and then he was too exhausted himself to even think about drawing out his magic. He would give it to him tomorrow. He would. He must. And then he slept.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>It was sometime later when Arthur found himself waking in a room grown dim with the dying light of the fire. He was blissfully warm, Merlin fitting against him in all the right places. The other still slept soundly, and Arthur curled around him again as he closed his eyes once more. </p><p>Just as he was drifting away, something hot pricked the skin of his palm where it rested low on Merlin’s back. It must have been what woke him. It felt like magic.</p><p>Arthur shifted himself up on an elbow to be able to see, and peered sleepily at where his hand had lain over one of Merlin’s runes. The magic burned again as he focused on it, stronger, and it hurt somewhere deep in his core as his own magic recoiled. He pulled his hand away at the sting, sitting up quickly. </p><p>The magic…It had felt like something crushing him impossibly. Felt like chains clamped tight about his very soul. And those runes. He had <i>felt</i> what they were, what they did. </p><p>They were to keep his magic bound. Merlin was a prisoner in his own body. </p><p>His heart was racing with the flood of discovery following that single flare of magic, and Arthur looked down at all those dark marks with new eyes. He clenched his fists into the blanket feeling sick. </p><p>Glancing at Merlin’s face still innocently relaxed in sleep, he found a renewed sense of determination at the sight. </p><p>The more he knew of him, the more he saw how Merlin was suffering far greater than any man he’d met before, and yet still his heart was pure as he stubbornly tried to overcome it. It seemed he was far braver than any man he’d met as well. </p><p>How could Merlin bear feeling restrained like that all the time? Was this why his magic was fighting him, hurting him, and turning against him? Why hadn’t he ever explained about what those runes did to him? The way he spoke of it, he had no idea why his magic was breaking apart like this, but surely there was no way he couldn’t know. Right? </p><p>Arthur had seen how powerful and immense his magic was, how it nearly burst out of him time and again even while he said he couldn’t use it with the bracelet on his wrist. He said this magic was something else, not his own, and Arthur didn’t understand. He didn’t know what the bracelet did but guessed it somehow took his ability to control his magic rather than merely restrict it. There was nothing he could do to help with that. </p><p>He didn’t know what these runes did, but what he had glimpsed had felt fundamentally wrong, and his magic had wanted to <i>do</i> something. Something like take him in his hands, hold him to his heart, and set him free. And if there was even the possibility of a chance he could actually wield his magic to such an aim without knowing spells or how to even go about it…</p><p>He would do it in a heartbeat. </p><p>Slowly, like drifting into a dream, he brushed away the rising compulsion to just lay his hands on Merlin and pour all his magic into him. That wasn’t what he needed to do; it wasn’t right. This was different. He had to fix this injustice first.</p><p>His fingers slipped reverently through soft ebony strands of hair, trailing down that sleeping face in a caress before he let his hands follow the pull of magic. It wanted something from him. </p><p>He looked at the intricate swirls of ink upon the pale expanse of skin and ghosted soft fingers over the marks as they urged him to touch. To wipe them clean. </p><p>The world narrowed to nothing but tender fingers lingering, tracing the edges of black lines, his breath gone shallow as something languidly warm expanded in this chest. With each beat of his heart he could feel the magic pulse out through his hand, seeping into the tattoos with honey golden light.</p><p>Under the caress of his magic Merlin's skin slowly lit softly white, the way he always glowed with his magic, and here in the hushed intimacy of a shared bed it reminded him of moonlight muted in darkness. He was beautiful and otherworldly like this, and as he gazed down at him the notes of his mother's lullaby came to him unbidden. Merlin looked to be as one of the magical spirits he'd always imagined when she sang it, and he smiled now at the thought.</p><p>He hummed the tune wistfully and his magic grew joyfully at the sound of it, cresting at his bidding before it flowed from him with purpose. Merlin's skin was soft. Arthur's magic painted him with gold and he was spellbound. </p><p>The magic was urgent and insistent, but so gentle as the string of marks beneath his touch became infused with the light. The symbols wavered and shivered while the magic continued to thrum through his fingertips, trails of shimmering gold following along the paths he’d drawn. The ink rippled as it liquefied, and beneath him Merlin moaned softly as if in pain, arching away from the burn of dancing light. </p><p>Arthur abruptly stopped singing, smoothing one hand over his hair to calm him.</p><p>And before his very eyes, the marks were fading, glowing like sun on skin before they were melting away. The air vibrated around them with a low hum as his magic sank back into him, and the temperature suddenly dropped. </p><p>Excruciating cold crashed over him in a wave that nearly knocked him over, his breath gone cloudy white as heavy fog curled around Merlin’s body.</p><p>And Merlin was abruptly lurching up from the bed, gasping and awake, and whirled on Arthur with wild, terrified eyes.</p><p>His whole body was shaking as the clouds of mist whirled around them, and then he wrapped his arms around himself as he hunched over his knees with a choked sound of anguish.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin was lost, floundering in the midst of a nightmare. He was sleeping one moment, and the next he couldn’t understand what was happening as his magic constricted painfully at the same moment the cold monster burst awake. </p><p>It was thrashing and straining against him feverishly as some barrier that had always been there was now awfully gaping and empty. <i>Gone</i>.</p><p>And Arthur was there, staring at him with those trusting eyes. Eyes that seemed to look through him and see into his very heart. He was smiling gently now, reaching out to slide one hand along his cheek as if to reassure him, but at the touch the cold magic gave a sickening lurch, desperate for Arthur’s magic, and his gasp of pain splintered into minute fractals of ice that rained down around them like snow.</p><p>Slapping Arthur’s hand away, Merlin clutched at the place that burned it was so cold. </p><p>Looking down in bewilderment, he found that the expanse of his chest that had always been covered with tattoos was inexplicably bare. While he could see black peeking around the skin of his sides, the marks were gone all the way down his front. There was only one conclusion to make even as he didn’t understand it.</p><p>Breath catching in his throat, his head snapped up to pierce Arthur with an agonized glare. “What did you <i>do</i>?” He rasped.</p><p>Arthur’s eyes were liquid soft, gleaming with something he couldn’t identify, and he didn’t speak as he reached for him again. Merlin threw a hand out to keep him back yet again, frost edging his fingers like gloves and he stared at them in horror.</p><p>“Don’t touch me!” His voice wavered, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to contain his panic. The rush of his blood felt sluggish as the magic moved relentlessly, crawling along his veins as it tried to force itself <i>out</i>. It couldn’t find a way, even with half the runes that seemed to have bound it now gone. “Arthur?” He gasped. “How did you- Why would you do this?”</p><p>He’d erased runes that had been there all his life, the tattoos that were meant to keep him safe. He was beginning to comprehend their necessity as the instant they were removed the icy power was sent into a frenzy within him. The implications unleashed another wave of fear through him. </p><p>His body was hardly his own anymore. Covered with secrets and filled with magic that wasn’t his own, and he felt he would be destroyed from the inside out. He felt bruised and raw everywhere it battered to escape, and his shivered violently. His body was frozen cold, each breath like fire. </p><p>But nothing felt so cold as his heart. Cold with the knowledge of how this would end.</p><p>“It’s getting stronger.” He whispered, lips numb. “It wants out, and if you- if you free it- it will kill you. I told you this. And after, I think it may try to kill <i>everyone</i>.” He was feeling more sure of that by the second. “Why! Why would you take away my protection? I hadn’t realized- I didn’t know- but these runes are the only thing keeping this back! I can’t stand it. I don’t want to feel it anymore, it’s tearing me apart!” </p><p>He’d never spoken of it like this, but he was nearly sick with the burden he’d carried for so long, and Arthur had just made everything worse.</p><p>“Those runes were not protecting you.” Arthur said. “I could feel the magic in them. They were cruel. They were imprisoning your magic! Can’t your feel it?”</p><p>Merlin shook his head, lifting the wrist with its bracelet. “<i>This</i> is what imprisons me. These runes have always been there. The moment you took them from me, it came alive, and-and <i>look</i> at me!” He was crusted all over in white frost, and he could see Arthur, bare chested and vulnerable, shivering with cold as it crept slowly out from Merlin like a curse.</p><p>“Merlin.” Arthur stared at him steadily, so brave even as Merlin froze before his eyes. “You’re wrong. Those runes were hurting you and if you’ve had them so long you were just too used to it to know any different. Your magic is wounded and keeping it locked inside you will only hurt you more! You need to let it out. You need to trust it and make it yours again. It will be okay, I promise you. Let me take the last of those runes. Let me free you.” </p><p>“No!” Merlin cried. “I don’t want this power! I don’t want to become Emrys. I think I’ll lose my mind if I give in. Please, Arthur. Why won’t you listen to me?”</p><p>“What is Emrys?” Arthur asked.</p><p>Merlin shook his head. “I don’t even know. They said it’s a being of pure magic, a legend. It must be why my father bound me. He knew it is inside me and tried to keep it docile. To put it to sleep.” </p><p>The realization lifted a weight off his chest so suddenly he nearly felt dizzy with it. All this time, how had he never understood- “But the magic- Emrys- it is not <i>good</i>, Arthur. It is mindless. Just a force of nature, and it’s so <i>angry</i>. If it must be locked within my body to keep it from destroying everything like it seems to want, then I need to keep it here. I can’t let it take anyone’s magic. I can’t let it hurt anyone else! Don’t you see? It’s too powerful to control, and it must be contained!” </p><p>It was all becoming clear to him, and he couldn’t believe he’d never recognized it before. “It must be why- why my eyes stay gold. Why father started using the bracelet. Emrys has been trying to take me over, and once it does, I’m afraid of what it will try to do.”</p><p>“Your father told me to wake it.” Arthur murmured, and Merlin gaped at him. </p><p>“What? Why would he-“ </p><p>“He keeps on using you, Merlin.” He looked sorry, but he didn’t try to soften his words. “I’ve seen what he’s done and what he’s after. He must want control of Emrys. Just think what he could do if he had it. No one would ever be able to stop him, then.”</p><p>Merlin’s heart twisted. Right when he’d thought that just maybe his father had been protecting him all along, Arthur crushed him with what he knew to be the truth. </p><p>“But- you keep telling me to stop fighting it. What if it’s too strong and it takes me over? What if I turn into something worse than him?” He was desperate for some way out of this, some way to get rid of Emrys without having to be a hero.</p><p>“I still think it’s part of you, Merlin. I think you will never find rest until you embrace it and learn to control it. If you are able to do that, you will be free of him. You can stop him and any who would take his place. You could use it for good.”</p><p>“It doesn’t <i>feel</i> good.” Merlin whimpered. He was so tired of fighting it. Of being so, so cold.</p><p>Arthur sighed, looking troubled even as warm fingers reached for him yet again. “Use me. Use my magic. We can be stronger than Emrys together. Please, let me do this for you.” </p><p>Merlin tensed, forced himself to be still as Arthur’s soft caress down his arm drew lines of heat along his chilled body. It was a warmth that seeped beneath the skin to melt the cold anger and paralyzing fear. It was Arthur’s magic. </p><p>Tears pricked his eyes and he wanted to pull away, to continue resisting the lure of it. He hadn’t relied on anyone before, hadn’t needed anyone until he had needed Arthur, and it was so difficult to not bask in the warmth in the breath of air that floated past his cheek.</p><p>Desire poured down into the pit of his stomach as Arthur leaned into him bodily, brushing warm lips across his own. His touch was sunlight, his lips fire, and the softness of that kiss said <i>I’m here.</i> better than words ever could.</p><p><i>Trust me.</i> As hands curled around his own, bringing warmth and comfort. </p><p><i>I’m sorry,</i> As he kissed him again. </p><p><i>I’m yours.</i> As hands threaded through his hair, fingers along his neck, eyes so warm and fond. </p><p>Then lips kissed the corner of his mouth, sucking gently on his lower lip before a warm tongue swiped across, asking for permission as much as bypassing such things and already taking his breath away.</p><p>“No-“ He whispered, voice rough. “You can’t, Arthur-“ But he was too weak to push him away yet again, helpless to stop himself as one sharp tug of those hands brought him tumbling fully against the other, Arthur’s arms trapping him easily as he leaned back in the bed. One hand slid around his waist, the other drifting up his shoulder to take hold of the hair at his nape. “What if I take too much?“</p><p>“Shh.” Arthur soothed, curling around him so hot and alive. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” </p><p>Merlin melted against him trustingly, trying to release the tight strangle-hold he had on the monster, but he just couldn’t seem to let go. Arthur still was so new with his magic, he might not be able to tell when it was too much. </p><p>Arthur saw his hesitation and pinned him with those eyes shining with trust and belief, and Merlin almost couldn’t bear it. He didn’t deserve this man.</p><p>“Merlin. Just feel my magic. It’s for you."</p><p>He pulled Merlin’s face down to kiss him firmly, hot and wet and commanding. Their bodies pressed flush together, the heat of Arthur’s skin making the coldness of his own thaw in waves of pleasant warmth. </p><p>He felt dizzy with the new sensation, and when Arthur’s magic flowed into him next, he abandoned himself to the feeling. Loving hands were on his skin, arms keeping him safe, and lips devoured his while magic tingled through his veins like electricity.</p><p>It was getting harder to heed the echoes of <i>it will kill you- tear me apart and kill you-</i> trying to make him remember why he couldn’t just let go and take it <i>all</i>. He had never felt such pleasure, never felt so <i>alive</i> with magic. </p><p>But this time Merlin wasn’t stealing it, and it made all the difference. </p><p>Arthur was giving it to him so slowly, careful yet without restraint, his care evident in the way the gold wrapped around him like another pair of hands, trying to melt the ice from every inch of him. </p><p>The frosty air had gone stuffy and hot with their passion, with the flood of sun that was Arthur, and Merlin pulled back momentarily to find Arthur looking up at him. It was so lovely. That gaze. The one that made him forget how to breathe, how to think. One that he wanted to keep forever.</p><p>“See?” Those kiss swollen lips quirked in a little smirk. “It’s working, isn’t it?” </p><p>Merlin’s eyes stung as he smiled back tremulously. Arthur was right. </p><p>He was warm, filled blissfully with Arthur’s magic, and Emrys was no longer trying to escape like a rabid creature. He almost couldn’t believe it. He knew he should pull away, should stop this before it got out of control, but Arthur didn’t let him go, his fingers curling into his skin. He traced the strokes of a rune laying across his spine and Merlin’s breath hitched in a sudden spike of anxiety.</p><p>“Not the runes.” He begged. “Not yet. Please, just- I- I’m not ready to fight it again so soon.”</p><p>Arthur moved his hand to Merlin’s hip instead and Merlin wanted to kiss him for it. There was nothing stopping him from doing so, and Merlin’s hands tentatively roamed smooth skin as he looked into eyes now blown wide and dark. Arthur was looking at him intently, his eyes flaring gold again as he lifted his head to capture his lips once more.</p><p>They kissed slowly, learning each other, but then something flipped inside him as that delicious magic rushed through him again, and he meshed their mouths together more insistently, delighting in the feel of it. </p><p>Arthur was so warm and strong beneath him, and he panted against Arthur’s ear as one hot hand trailed down his back, slid beneath the fabric of his breeches and squeezed. They both groaned as their hips rubbed together and magic sparked between them bright and beautiful.</p><p>It was like an expanding plume of heat rising and pressing against him, and Merlin let it come. He wanted more. There was so much, much more, bubbling out of Arthur’s core, and he wanted all of it.</p><p>Arthur was offering it to him, and it was his to take. He reached for it, drawing it towards him, and where he touched it crusted into ice, and it felt glorious, yes- this was everything, this magic was for him, it was his- </p><p>“Gods,<i>no</i>!” </p><p>Merlin was off of Arthur and scrambling across the bed in dismay as he frantically tried to force those awful thoughts away. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t. </p><p>He felt the pit of dark ice within him, Emrys, an insidious parasite like always, and far from being immobilized, it had <i>grown</i>. It had taken Arthur’s magic yet again and grown stronger for it. </p><p>Why did he agree to this? He hadn’t even felt it, once again he’d- how could he let this happen?</p><p>Arthur was sprawled across the covers, chest heaving, panting and flushed gorgeously. His head was thrown back on the pillow with his hair spilling around his head as if blown in the wind. He was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. Except for his eyes. </p><p>They were open and staring blankly up at the ceiling, still brilliantly gold.</p><p>Merlin sucked in a breath as those eyes slid to land on him, flinching as Arthur lifted a hand as if in a trance and magic bloomed out towards him in a cloud of mist.</p><p>“Arthur- what are you- stop it!” Merlin cried in panic, unable to do anything but try to put distance between them. </p><p>The magic washed over him as he stumbled from the bed, knocking him to his knees as the inside of his ribs instantly burned with cold. It was fighting him and Merlin struggled to find himself. There was no way to hide or escape it, no way to contain or destroy it, and he couldn’t do this anymore. </p><p>Trembling hands sank into his hair and pulled as a low broken sound grated from deep in his chest.</p><p>The sound of Arthur rising from the bed caught his attention, and he whirled around to look up at him. He was gathering more magic, his skin nearly glowing with it, and was reaching for him as if he planned to keep on giving him more, and what was <i>wrong</i> with him? </p><p>He was as if possessed, and Merlin scrambled away from him, the room blurring before eyes that swam with hot tears of shame and despair. </p><p>“Don’t, Arthur!” He pleaded, his back hitting the wall. “I don’t want any more.”</p><p>Arthur walked towards him, face imploring. “You have to take it. You must take all of it. My magic is yours.“</p><p>“What is wrong with you?” Merlin cried. “Don’t ask this of me- <i>why</i> are you doing this?“ </p><p>Arthur was right there before him, his hands cupped his face and Merlin’s knees buckled at the wave of magic, at the roar of Emrys sucking it from him greedily. He couldn’t feel his hands, his whole torso was numb, and he shoved Arthur away with all his strength. </p><p>“Stop!”</p><p>Arthur stumbled back and turned to him with those horrid gold eyes. “I have to do this! I have to wake it!” </p><p>He was moving towards him again, nothing of the Arthur he knew left in his face.</p><p>And then Merlin knew his father had done this to him. Arthur had said his father wanted to wake Emrys, but he’d made Arthur want it too. He seemed compelled to try and sacrifice himself, and Merlin hadn’t known. Arthur had seemed himself, so sincere as he convinced and encouraged him, and Merlin had given in so easily, had taken so much more from him than just magic. Had Arthur even wanted to kiss him? </p><p>The depth of his own black heart was yawning before him now, exposed, and he couldn’t be sure that Emrys wasn’t actually part of him like Arthur said. They wanted the same thing, they both tried to take it for themselves, and he couldn’t bear to see how his own body was starting to glow with white light once again. </p><p>He had to stop Arthur, but he didn’t want to feel it, not the way the monster purred as unknown words spilled like snow drops from his lips.</p><p>Once more magic he didn’t know, but it was all he could use now to halt Arthur in his tracks. To try and coax him back to himself while his heart echoed hollowly in his frozen chest. He didn’t know how it still beat through the cold that encased him. He tried to force it to stop beating. To stop himself from wanting. </p><p>No matter how much he took, Emrys- no, <i>he</i>- only craved more. He was as dark and ugly as Emrys because they were one in the same. There was no way to be free of it because it was all just him. </p><p>Arthur was right, and his heart was shattering. </p><p>He was falling in love with Arthur. No, he already loved him. And he couldn’t be near him, couldn’t even touch him. His magic would end up killing him, and he loved him far too much to let that happen. </p><p>As the growing knowledge of what this meant crashed over him like so many icy black waves, suffocating and unbearable, he knew what he had to do. He would have to remove himself before he lost himself within that darkness. The bindings were failing and that part of him was so cruel and dangerous, there was only one answer to all of this. He would have to stop his father, kill him- and then kill himself. </p><p>Sucking in a trembling breath, he grimaced as he forced that gods-awful magic to do his bidding, to break the compulsion Arthur was under even as he longed to hold him close one last time before he had to let go. He held himself back, but he couldn’t stop staring at that beloved face. </p><p>When finally those eyes faded to blue Arthur fell to his knees, the horrid blank expression was crumbling into a weary sort of relief before his eyes slid closed. The soft white light that came from Merlin slowly faded as well until only the faintest shadow of a blue glow was left. </p><p>He felt emptied out, the intense emotional high followed so quickly by the resigned acceptance of himself leaving him with nothing. </p><p>The sound of Arthur’s breathing was too quick and light, his body shivering slightly against the lingering chill, and his voice slurred horribly when he opened his eyes at last, and called for him, “Merlin?”</p><p>Merlin bit his lip. How could he stand to look at him after what he’d done? Merlin couldn’t even meet his eyes, sick with his actions and sick with the knowledge of what lay ahead of him. </p><p>And if this was to be the last time he saw Arthur- a sob caught in his throat. </p><p>He hadn’t even seen him move, warm arms were already wrapping around him, and when a sloppy kiss pressed to his mouth he recoiled. </p><p>“You can’t.” He begged. And he’d only just barely fixed him, and Arthur was already trying to ruin it-</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Arthur said. “I thought I was in control, but I couldn’t stop. I should have told you. Your father cursed me, and-“</p><p>“I know, Arthur.” Merlin said, trying to pull out of the embrace. </p><p>Arthur wasn’t calling his magic so the touch was just a touch, but he couldn’t bear it for how they couldn’t <i>have</i> this. It was too dangerous. He was a monster on the verge of breaking free.</p><p>“Everything else was me. I swear it.” Arthur continued. “I- I care for you. Merlin. I would never hurt you.” He didn’t let Merlin go as he tried to extract himself again. “Please, just let me hold you.”</p><p>Merlin let him. </p><p>The next moment he was clinging to Arthur, unable to resist laying soft kisses along Arthur’s jaw, his throat where he’d tucked his face in shame, all the while telling himself it was the last one. All the while memorizing the feel of Arthur’s hands running down his spine, the press of lips in his hair. He held him close and wanted to just stay like this forever. To keep this. It was the hardest thing he ever did to let go.</p><p>“I have to go.” He told him. “I won’t be able to stop myself next time, I’m sure of it.”</p><p>“I won’t use my magic.” Arthur promised. “Stay. We shouldn’t be apart.”</p><p>“I’ll come back.” Merlin promised back. He was lying. “I just need to do something-”</p><p>“Merlin.” He coaxed, pleading. “You don’t need to go. Don’t run away from me, please.”</p><p>“You misunderstand me.” Merlin forced out. “You were right. The magic- Emrys- it’s me. Its anger, its desire to destroy- it’s all mine. And- and for a moment, I wanted everything it did. Do you see? If I accept it, become whole again, I am nothing but a monster. My sins have caught up with me. I have to go- go <i>away</i> from you.”</p><p>“I am not afraid of your darkness, Merlin.” Arthur’s face was serious. “If I can’t help heal you- then I will fight beside you. I will go with you.”   </p><p>Merlin shook his head. He couldn’t trust himself anymore. He wouldn’t stop or be able to hold it back again. He could feel it like another sense, an awareness that refused to be dormant any longer. He didn’t know what to do but remove himself. </p><p>“Please.” He said. “Right now I need some time alone.” He tried to hold the eyes that bore into his like they could see through him. </p><p>Arthur seemed to relent at last. “You promised to come back to me, Merlin.” He griped Merlin’s hand briefly before letting go. “We will do this together.”</p><p>Merlin nodded dumbly, turning to barrel through the door before he gave in and <i>stayed</i>. </p><p>The ice was already crackling back to life after the lull, quicker to rise now with the runes half gone, and he staggered down the hallway. His vision turned in as he clutched at his chest, nearly blind with the effort of trying to force the magic back down. He only knew he had to get away, but it almost hurt physically to put so much distance between himself and Arthur. </p><p>He could barely think for the agony of fighting it back, stumbling out to the top of the wall overlooking the city and collapsing in a heap as wan fingers of pale dawn bathed him in cool light. The rain had stopped, the sun was rising at last, but he could hardly rejoice in it. It was not nearly powerful enough to banish the monster, but just enough to give him the strength to crush it back deep within himself. </p><p>And he couldn’t move from his spot. Couldn’t bear to face the truth of what was happening to him. Couldn’t imagine how he was to succeed with his task. </p><p>He couldn’t do this much longer, and he feared being lost to Emrys before he could finish it. He feared death even as he knew it was the only way. He clenched his teeth as he tried to just stop feeling at all. </p><p>The sun was well into the sky by the time he roused from his stupor. </p><p>Magic twisted around him with a quick jab of energy. His father was calling him. Merlin labored to his feet, noticing he was still only half dressed, and though it had only been a few hours he longed for Arthur, even as he dreaded returning to the hopeless struggle to resist him.   </p><p>When he returned to their chambers to get dressed, he was disappointed yet relieved to find the place empty. </p><p>He couldn’t tell which part of that was Emrys and which was him. It sat so heavy and ugly deep within him, lurking and <i>there</i>, and he knew he would never again be without it. The lines were blurring, and it didn’t even matter anymore which was which for he had accepted the truth of himself and his ending. </p><p>Either way he would make sure Arthur stayed safe, stayed alive, and he pulled his hood about his face like a shield once more. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>********************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**********</p><p>Sorry this chapter is a little rushed and bleh I am not satisfied with it, but so sick of poking at it. X_X Just ready to move on to next part :S</p><p>Hopefully you still enjoyed it!! We are getting to the end of this thing and thanks so much for reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p>Arthur walked down the line of knights assembled before him. They were hardly even forty, but each of them to a man had their heads raised to meet his assessing eye. They were here on the behest of Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival, and the three had assured him these men would give their lives for this cause. </p><p>They knew who he was, believed his story, and here hidden away in a muddy field out of the sight of the castle, Arthur would test their mettle and make them stronger. Make them his own.</p><p>It wasn’t long before the sound of swords clashing filled the air, and Arthur’s blood sang through his veins as he crossed with Lancelot. The man was good, and he hadn’t enjoyed such a true challenge in ages. They parted after Arthur knocked the man to the ground weaponless and defeated. He reached down to offer him a hand up, and clapped him on the shoulder unable to hide his grin. </p><p>He could see the growing respect in the eyes of the others. and after allowing him a few minutes rest, Gwaine was there to take Lancelot’s place. </p><p>It was a near thing. Arthur almost lost to Gwaine, but when he finally had him knocked to the ground as his feet, the bastard used the hand he offered to jerk him down into the mud beside him. </p><p>The laughter around them felt familiar and comfortable. He felt like he was reclaiming a large part of himself that had been lost on his journey through those cursed woods. But it was even better than before, it felt as if he had been blessed with dozens of Elyans. These men would be his, not his father’s, and through this desperate unity against something so terrifying, yet wrong, they would be stronger for it. </p><p>The foundations he was trying to build on shifted and settled perfectly into place. </p><p>After they exhausted themselves in drill after drill, the men lingered to crowd about him and hear more of his story. He spared them details and was careful to paint the true picture of Merlin as he knew him, as a slave to his father, as a man with a heart as noble as any knight. </p><p>He could see the doubt in some of their eyes even then, having seen Merlin’s magic at work in horrible ways, having seen him kill their patrols. Having never seen his face. </p><p>Arthur was pleasantly surprised when the three knights backed him up, confirming they had seen Merlin for the man Arthur said he was. He couldn’t help the pride he felt hearing them speak protectively of the man he cared for above all others. </p><p>He hadn’t thought it was possible to fall into friendship so quickly, but these men seemed to have been waiting for him.</p><p>This small group of men would be on their side. They didn’t have to fight alone, and Arthur felt the power of hope filling his chest. Before they dispersed to tend to their other duties, they swore their blades to him, and looking into each pair of eyes, seeing their determination to do what was right, Arthur felt unworthy for the quick loyalty of these strangers. </p><p>He hadn’t yet proved himself, hadn’t yet freed them from the sorcerer, could be leading them to their deaths. And yet, if they succeeded and he was able to take his place as king, he would honor these men above all others as was their due. </p><p>He held the feeling close and safe. He didn’t dare promise them such things for there was a very real chance he would die before he saw that happen. </p><p>He hadn’t slept again that morning after Merlin left him despite his pleas for him to stay. </p><p>He had had nothing to do but dwell on what had happened between them. The glorious feeling of loving each other and sharing magic was nearly overshadowed by seeing the other crusted in ice and terrified of himself. </p><p>He wanted so desperately to be enough, to be able to save him, to love him, but Merlin was closing him out and Arthur had felt he would go mad with frustration, with the fear of losing him.</p><p>He had left the tower to wander the halls again, and when he’d laid eyes on the impressive bulk of a familiar knight, he had known right away what he must do. </p><p>These were his people whether they knew him or not, and he needed to let them know him in any way he could. They needed to know he was there, that he would fight for them.</p><p>He joined the three to break their fast as they filled him in on the situation of their army and supplies. They told him the reports of Alba’s own army only a week away, and the truth of what loomed before them made him want to find the sorcerer and run him through the heart right that moment. </p><p>He couldn’t allow these two kingdoms to cross arms, to kill each other when he was meant to protect both of them. This war could not be allowed to happen.</p><p>He had to find Merlin. </p><p>They needed to make plans and he had to make sure Merlin wasn’t losing himself when he wasn’t there to bring him back. </p><p>Before that, he had to find the Princess Morgana. </p><p>He had tasked the knights to gather as many men as they were sure of and to have them gather in a safe place where they could meet Arthur and practice. They promised to send someone for him, and told him he could probably find the princess in the storerooms or granary this time of day.</p><p>Arthur followed the directions to that side of the castle with faint amusement curling his lips. So, Leon had heard right about her after all. What sort of princess started her day by dealing with food rationing rather than laying abed? </p><p>Well, he was about to find out.</p><p>Wearing the colors of a knight ensured he was not apprehended as he entered the corridor filled with servants carrying various baskets of foodstuffs to and fro. He headed for the place they seemed to converge upon, catching a glimpse of a deep red gown and long black hair. She was there, not just dictating her wishes, but personally working to hand out sacks of grain with instructions on where and who they were to go.</p><p>He watched her for a few minutes, seeing the kindness in her smile, the gentleness of her hand on the arm of a maid, the command in her green eyes as she instructed her people and expected them to obey. She seemed a fine princess, a woman groomed to be queen but also assuming the role because it suited her well. </p><p>He hoped to get to know her, hoped they could come to some agreement between them after all this was settled. He would be proud to rule beside a woman such as this, he felt they could do great things for their people. </p><p>Yet he quietly acknowledged to himself that his heart was already taken and could never be hers. </p><p>It wasn’t long before she turned and noticed him there, beckoning him forward as she assumed he was there to aid in her tasks.</p><p>When she directed him to the large sack of flour she would have him deliver to the butcher down in the lower town, he straightened his back as he cleared his throat.</p><p>“I would speak with you privately, Your Highness.”</p><p>She did a double take then, facing him fully as keen green eyes raked over his face. She tilted her head slightly as she finished assessing him, a small polite smile curled ruby lips, but her eyes were sharp and wary.</p><p>“I am afraid I do not recognize you, Sir knight. While I can hardly claim to remember every new face that has joined the castle in the past weeks, I wouldn’t soon forget eyes like yours.” </p><p>She smirked at him, her arms lifting to cross over her chest. The tips of her nails were dyed as red as her lips.</p><p>“You would be right, My Lady.” He replied. “I fear you will not like to hear what I have to say, but you must be made aware of the plots within the castle. Both the good and bad.”</p><p>A small crease formed between her sculpted brows. “You do not speak like a mere knight. Who are you to know of such things?”</p><p>He met her eyes like the equals they were, and she didn’t fail to notice his confidently relaxed stance. “What would you say if I told you I am Prince Arthur of Alba, and the man you think to be him was naught but an imposter?”</p><p>Her eyes darted around the room still bustling with people, before she stared him down, eyes narrowing. “I would think you a liar without seeing proof.” One eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “Yet, I would hear your explanation.”</p><p>Arthur nodded. “My knights turned against me on our journey here, and would have killed me were it not for the sorcerer Balinor taking me prisoner instead. They had my servant, Mordred, take my place.” It was a fantastical tale to be sure, and Morgana looked interested but didn’t seem to believe him yet. “You know Alba’s army approaches as we speak,” He continued seriously, “and as crown prince, my brother will no doubt lead them. I would stop this before it comes to bloodshed, as would Leon if he knew the truth of it. He must think me dead. Alba was committed to peace with Camelot, and we have no wish to fight, My Lady. There lies but only one obstacle to halting this unnecessary war.” He gave her a pointed look.</p><p>Morgana seemed to be considering his words. “And this is the other plot of which you mentioned?” </p><p>Arthur bowed his head slightly. “Yes. We plan to stop Balinor. I am sure of the loyalty of some of the knights, and also we have- I have an ally-“ He faltered suddenly, unsure of how Morgana felt about Merlin. He said he’d killed her father, but she had to know he was good. That he was theirs. “He told me you were siblings.”  </p><p>Morgana’s eyes widened, “Merlin?” She whispered. </p><p>Arthur regarded her, taking in her expression and seeing no ill intent there. “You need to know he is a prisoner. His father commands his magic, but Merlin will stand against him. He just needs to be free of the artifact which binds him. For without Merlin, there is no chance to stop this.”</p><p>“I am aware.” She replied quietly. “I have- seen it.” She hesitated before her openness abruptly closed off, and she stared at him guardedly. “I would not wish harm on Merlin, yet I fear he may not be able to do what you ask. Nor am I sure of you, knight. There is much more to this than I can say, yet if you are who you say you are, you would do well to know them.”</p><p>She needed something more, something in which to trust, and Arthur had nothing to give her. </p><p>“I am who I say. What I speak now is treason, yet I trust you with our plans. Will you not take my word for it?” He said.  </p><p>“No,” She pinned him with a cool gaze. “I would have you prove it to me. Right now.”</p><p>Arthur took a small step back, wondering if he could just- He gestured her closer, but Morgana refused to move. Arthur glanced nervously at the servants nearby before he shifted so his back was facing the rest of the room. </p><p>“You can trust me.” He murmured, “I’ve been told only royalty can do this.” And he brought his hand up between them, calling his magic to form into the now familiar golden shield. He held it for a single breath before letting go.</p><p>Morgana didn’t make a sound, but he could see she was shocked. </p><p>A second later, those red nails were digging into his arm as she dragged him from the room. They crossed the hall where she then bundled them into a small room filled with fabrics and cloth. It was dark, but she shut the door firmly on the light spilling in from the hallway. </p><p>He felt her turn towards him in the dark. “Show me again.” She commanded.</p><p>Arthur huffed out a laugh. “As you wish.” It was even easier this time.</p><p>When the sparks of light faded from their eyes and left them once more in darkness, he felt a hand on his arm once more. Her fingers slid down until she could touch the skin on the back of his hand.</p><p>“I believe you.” She said. “Only those of royal blood possess magic. We do not use it in Camelot, and I had thought Alba was of the same tradition…”</p><p>“Merlin taught me.” He explained, and was glad she could not see the blush that rose to his cheeks as he thought of Merlin’s lips on his while Arthur’s magic curled around them both. “I never knew I even had it before I came here, yet it is the most wonderous thing I have ever felt.” It felt easier to confess such things to a stranger here where it was dark.</p><p>“Using magic is punishable by banishment, if not death.” Morgana said quietly. “At least it used to be.” Then her voice took on the quality of one reciting lessons, “It is a mark of our lineage, yet not for us to use. Humans can only be corrupted by it.” </p><p>Arthur thought of Merlin’s father and felt inclined to agree, but he knew the man would have been cruel even without the magic. Morgana’s voice had sounded so emotionless, and he felt there was something he was missing.</p><p>“I don’t believe that.” He countered. “Have you never felt it, then? The life in everything? I have only seen purity in the enchantments Merlin had made as a child, and I- He showed me that while such power could easily corrupt a man, it can also be used for such good. It can be a strength.” He paused. “I grew a flower with magic. For no reason but the beauty of it.” </p><p>Morgana didn’t answer.</p><p>“My Lady? I am not asking you to condone it here and now. I just am beginning to think we have this power for a reason. Why not use whatever means possible to help protect our people, to make the land prosper? Furthermore, I fear only magic can bring about the defeat of the king.”</p><p>And still the princess was quiet. He tried to find her face but could see nothing in the darkness. He wasn’t sure if he was convincing her or pushing her farther from his side the more he spoke. </p><p>There was a stirring of air, and Morgana whispered, “<i>Forbaernan</i>.”</p><p>The torch on the wall roared into life so suddenly, Arthur jumped back as he tried to draw his sword. He stumbled into a chest and sat down upon it heavily. </p><p>Morgana was standing before him, hands clasped so tightly together her knuckles popped out white. She was staring at him with a serenely blank face, a mask that tried to cover the fear shining in her eyes.</p><p>“I can See the future.” She said, still sounding so calm. “I have seen this moment- though not in such detail, and I could only ever remember the flash of a sword.” Her eyes dropped to the weapon, the point of it drooping to the floor. “There was no way for me to know…”</p><p>To know Arthur was on her side. That he was like her.</p><p>Arthur sheathed his sword and stood. He reached for her hand, tugging it from her death grip to bow over it and press his lips to the smooth skin. Lifting his eyes, he smiled up at her shocked face.</p><p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lady Morgana.”</p><p>Morgana scoffed a laugh, pulling her hand away, but she was smiling. “Likewise…Prince Arthur.”</p><p>He couldn’t help but like her. And he couldn’t help but notice she did rather look a lot like Merlin. Their mother must have been beautiful, and he felt such sadness at the thought of these two fragile yet fierce people growing up without the guidance of a mother. He would not be who he was now without his own.</p><p>“I am sorry for your loss.” He meant to encompass both her parents, but didn’t feel it would be proper to bring up a mother she had never known. “Merlin said- He said he was the one who-" </p><p>Why was he even trying to say this? He hadn’t wanted to know the details.</p><p>“It wasn’t him.” Morgana was quick to interrupt. “That- that <i>tyrant</i> held him down and just- took his magic.” She looked sick. “I hadn’t known it was even possible.”</p><p>Arthur’s heart constricted. “Merlin blames himself.” He realized. </p><p>Even when his father was the one to direct the magic, he still felt responsible for what his magic did without his consent. </p><p>“You care for him a great deal.” Morgana observed, and Arthur tried to smooth his expression. He probably failed.</p><p>“I- I want you to know. Merlin has my heart.” He coughed awkwardly, unable to look at her face. He would not lead her astray, and he would not betray his heart. “And if I am to survive this, I could not in good conscience ask you to still follow the arrangement of our fathers. I think I should like to stay here. There is much I’d like to help with. And if you’re willing, we can uphold the treaty without- without marriage.”</p><p>Morgana laughed at him, bright and warm. He reluctantly looked at her. “Oh, I quite like you, My Lord.” She smiled at him, the gleam in her eyes making him feel nervous. “You need not fear marriage to me, but I would very much like to keep you- and Merlin.” Her smile faded, and she absently smoothed her dress. “I would give you whatever aid you need in your endeavors. My magic lies mostly in my visions, and the rest but party tricks. I would be of little use to you against the King.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Arthur graciously accepted, “I would not put any of this household in unnecessary danger. If you could provide safe passage for them, to send them somewhere safe?” A thought occurred to him. “Then if you are able, I would like to try combining our strength to create wards around the castle.” </p><p>He knew Alba was up against magic, but the sorcerer was but one man. He’d personally developed and drilled the army of Alba’s on the best siege tactics, and he would not see this castle burn and crumble before he had a chance to stop everything.</p><p>Morgana gave him a bemused look. “Are you going to teach me?”</p><p>“No.” He said. “Merlin will.”   </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The lure of his father’s magic led him to the council chambers, and when he quietly pushed the double doors open, he faltered to a stop as he found the room to be full of people.</p><p>Extra seats had been drawn up to the long rectangular table, and it seemed as if each council member had brought with them their sons, from full grown knights down to the youngest lad. The room was eerily silent, and Merlin wanted to close the doors again and run in the opposite direction. </p><p>There was dread pooling in his stomach as his eyes found his father seated regally on the small throne at the head of the table. The man had obviously been waiting for him, impatience drawing lines between his thick brows. </p><p>“Ah. There he is.” </p><p>His voice was loud in the silence of the chamber, and Merlin took his cue to close the doors and make his way across the length of the room to where his father indicated an empty seat to his right. He was to have Merlin sit at this table of fathers and their sons, and he couldn’t feel his frozen hands where they clenched the fabric of his tunic. He felt each and every eye on him as he sat, and he grit his teeth under their scrutiny. </p><p>He did not want to be here. </p><p>“Now, then.” His father said, getting straight to business. “I thought it prudent that I extend to you the same courtesy you have shown me as you answered my summons and let me meet your heirs and sons. Let me present to you my own son.” A hand came to the back of Merlin’s head, fingers gripping cloth, and what was he- he couldn’t mean to- </p><p>“Emrys.” His father introduced, and tugged the hood away to bare him before all these people.</p><p>Merlin was as if petrified in his seat. There was a block of ice in his chest and a monster whispering like mist through his mind. He could feel it stir in interest as these people all looked and saw him for what he was. </p><p>His father called him <i>Emrys</i>, and these nobles were shrinking from him, expressions of awe and fear crossing their faces. They knew what Emrys was. And they saw his golden eyes. </p><p>He did not want to <i>be</i> here. </p><p>Merlin couldn’t even look at his father for fear that he would pierce him with shards of ice right here before the council. He could feel the rising anger, none of it his, and it scared him with its potency. Emrys hated his father even more than he did. </p><p>Or, he supposed, all his hate over the years had been locked away and compressed until Emrys was boated and sick with it.</p><p>Oblivious to Merlin’s inner turmoil, his father merely smiled at those gathered and beckoned a servant over to place a great basin of water before him. “It is time we observe our enemy. I will prove to you that you have nothing to fear from this war. Victory will be ours, and only those who oppose us will feel the might of my power.”</p><p>With those words he upturned the bowl, spilling the water across the length of the table. The men all leapt from their seats in alarm, cries of dismay adding to the confusion as they attempted to evade the liquid, only to find not a drop had spilled over the edge of the table. His father had spelled it to remain within the confines of the wood, and the water rippled and sloshed against invisible barriers before settling into a smooth imitation of a lake. </p><p>Merlin realized they were to scry using a medium large enough for a whole room of people to watch.</p><p>It didn’t surprise him when a heavy hand fell upon his nape, and the metal of his father’s ring bit into his skin. His father’s skin was burning hot against his, and Merlin felt nauseous with the way Emrys swirled and rose, eager for the magic it could sense tingling under his father’s skin. Magic his father would never let him touch as he took from Merlin instead.</p><p>“Please sit, My Lords. I have prepared a means for us to spy on the army of Alba. And it seems with a little help from my son, we shall be able to give them a little welcoming gift.” His smile was cold as he turned to look at Merlin. “Let’s see how far your reach extends now, Emrys.”</p><p>And then as he chanted the scrying spell, he <i>pulled</i>. </p><p>His magic was forced across space, across days of travel that lay between them and the army, and as the scene of forests and mountain blurred before them on the surface of the water, Merlin felt his father’s presence grasp ahold of that pit of cold that was Emrys and it was as if his whole body was plunged into an icy lake. He couldn’t breathe for how it seared his lungs, and faintly he could see how the scrying water instantly hardened into a sheet of ice. </p><p>“There it is.” His father sounded strange, as if he had seen something wonderful, and he was unnervingly gentle as he drew more magic from Merlin. </p><p>It felt like his father was stealing his very blood, and Merlin shivered against the edge of the table. The remaining runes covering his torso seared as if hot brands were pressed against his skin, and he couldn’t even suck in enough air to cry out from the pain of it. </p><p>Emrys was thrashing against both his father and the marks that imprisoned it within Merlin’s body, trying to resist being used against its will. Never had it felt as awful as it did now. He almost didn’t care to see the sprawling encampment that now lay along the banks of a small lake. He didn’t care to hear the words of amazement and the clapping of the counselors. </p><p>This felt like death and he couldn’t wait for it to stop.</p><p>His father perused the image of the army that lay before them, allowing the council to give their approximation of numbers of soldiers and the extent of supplies. He didn’t seem to care for it, as he stroked hot fingers along the line of Merlin’s neck, taking and directing more magic to the waters of the lake instead. </p><p>Those fingers clamped tight about his neck the moment before he decided to strike. Then he was tearing the magic from Merlin roughly, stirring the lake until it frothed and churned as if alive. The knights of Alba were scrambling for their weapons, searching for an enemy as the suddenly animated lake swelled into an impossible wave. It grew quickly and as it crested and rushed down to flood the camp his father <i>twisted</i> the magic and shoved his free hand out above the scene with a quickly chanted spell.</p><p>The water turned to ice as it careened through the ranks of men, thick icicles thrusting brutally through everything in their path, the wicked sharp points of it piercing easily through tents, trunks of trees, and animal and human alike. There was no sound, not a scream to be heard, but the picture below them was pure chaos and the brutality of his father’s command was there for all to see.</p><p>Merlin slumped against the table now, his head listing to the side only held in place by the force of his father’s hand. The room tilted and pulsed around him, and everything was so quiet save the shrill note ringing in his ears. </p><p>Then his father released him, his hand giving his hair a ruffle as if petting a hound that had done what its master wanted, and Merlin closed his eyes. He felt as if he would vomit, then float up into nothing, the white glow of his own skin lighting the darkness behind closed eyelids. </p><p>The power of Emrys was hardly depleted after such an excessive stretch of magic, but the pain of being used against its will had injured it somehow and it curled within him pitifully. </p><p>Merlin hardly noticed as the room emptied around him, the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling feet fading away to leave him once again in silence. </p><p>Then his father spoke. “Merlin. Look at me.”</p><p>Merlin didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything else for this man who only craved his son’s magic. But he blinked his eyes open slowly to see the ceiling still spinning high above his head. He closed them again.</p><p>“Merlin.” His father repeated, and Merlin forced himself to look, to see his father looming over him, a hand reaching for him again. He tried to move away but found he had no control over his own body. </p><p>Blackness. His eyes were closed again. Then a hand was on his face, and a sweet furl of golden magic washed over him. Merlin whimpered at the feel of it, at how it instantly filled him with warmth before Emrys snatched it away from him greedily. The touch left and Merlin opened his eyes once more to see his father watching him intently.</p><p>“Get up.” He said, and Merlin found himself strong enough to obey. “You need to be stronger than this, Merlin.” He said, frowning. “I hardly took much, and you were already swooning before the entire council.” His eyes raked over him. “Where is Arthur?”</p><p>The sudden question caught him off guard, and he shook his head silently. </p><p>“I told him to give you his magic. You need his magic to be able to withstand this. Did you not take it?”</p><p>There was a lump clogging his throat and Merlin’s eyes started to burn. “I-I did.” He choked out, hating himself.</p><p>“Not all of it?” His father confirmed, and Merlin shook his head miserably. His father made him feel as if he failed, as if not draining Arthur of his magic was something to be ashamed of. </p><p>He couldn’t seem to swallow around the building pressure, terrified that he would begin to cry right here under his father’s disapproval, and it was so <i>pathetic</i> he couldn’t stand it.</p><p>“You would do well to heed me, Merlin. I brought him here for you. His sole purpose is to give you strength so you can survive this awakening.” Merlin stared at his father in shock. He didn’t know what he was hearing. “I had thought all of my careful plans were ruined when you so impulsively took that girl’s magic much too soon.” He continued callously, eyes dark as he pinned him like a bug. The words were like a physical blow. “You were still so young then, much too young to be able to sustain it. And she was still a child growing into her power. She hadn’t enough to properly rouse it either.”</p><p>Merlin shook his head helplessly. How could his father have done this? Freya had been locked away with plans to feed Merlin her magic bit by bit, all for the sake of waking Emrys. All for the sake of giving his father the power to rule the world. And <i>Arthur-</i>? His father could see his dawning comprehension and sighed at him.</p><p>“You see now, don’t you? Why I had to get another of royal blood. One who’s magic was mature. And you, my son, you had to be ready. You are almost there, you can feel it, too, can’t you?”</p><p>Merlin still couldn’t speak. To think his father had been able to influence the people of two separate kingdoms in such a manner that he could win himself a prince with neither side any the wiser. Merlin saw all those years of poisoning the land, destroying the wealth and livelihood of a whole kingdom, weakening and slaughtering, cursing the minds of any who traversed the forest, all of it coming back to the same point. </p><p>Camelot had been brought to its knees all for the sake of bringing Arthur to Merlin. </p><p>Now his father expected him to finish his work of a decade and kill Arthur for his magic. And the worst of it was Merlin feared he would do so whether he wanted to or not. </p><p>Emrys was too powerful, and his father probably didn’t care if Merlin died in the process as long as Emrys lived on. His father couldn’t know there would be no withstanding this awakening. If he let Emrys take him over he would destroy everything.    </p><p>He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let himself live a moment longer. But he couldn’t go before he stopped the monster sat before him, and he wasn’t strong enough. He was still trapped by shackles and runes, and he couldn’t see the way forward through this nightmare.</p><p>His father had stood while Merlin battled with the knowledge that now burdened him.</p><p>“As you know, four days from now marks the Summer Solstice. I have tracked the turning of the heavens for years, and it is this night I have been waiting for. The night it will be at its most vulnerable, yet most powerful.” His eyes gleamed, and Merlin’s inkling of what his father meant by that sent dread into the pit of his stomach. “You will come to the North tower at sunset on that day, and you will bring Arthur with you. Do you understand me?”</p><p>Merlin bowed his head, “Yes, father.”</p><p>Four days. They only had four days to prepare for this, to figure out how to break him free of the bracelet, and with Emrys coating his insides like tar, Merlin didn’t think he’d last even one. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Merlin thought he may have walked into the wrong room by mistake. </p><p>He stood in the doorway of a room that was bright and inviting, and meticulously <i>clean</i>. There was new furniture including a small table and two chairs, a chest of what looked to be clothing, and even a beautifully carved wooden changing screen to one side. The covers had all been changed on the bed, and fur rugs had been laid before the fire along with sitting chairs. It was opulent and fit for a king, and Merlin belatedly pulled his eyes away from it as movement from the window drew his attention.</p><p>It was Morgana. </p><p>She was dressed in a lovely gown of red, and not a hair was out of place on her head. She looked as poised and confident as any princess should be, regardless of the fact that her castle had been overturned by a sadistic sorcerer.</p><p>“Hello…Merlin?” She smiled at him. “I took the liberty of having your chambers properly cleaned and freshened up. I hope it pleases you. It was the least I could do for my brother and…his prince.” </p><p>Merlin flushed at the words, feeling uncertain as her smile melted into something like a knowing smirk. Merlin took a hesitant step back.</p><p>“I met Arthur.” Morgana was quick to explain. “The real one. And he told me everything.” </p><p>She stood in the middle of the room, giving him space, and he felt that crossing that threshold would be allowing one more person inside his carefully guarded boundaries, and he wasn’t sure if he could do it.</p><p>“Please, Merlin.” She entreated. “I will do everything I can to help you. I have seen Arthur’s heart, and if a man like that believes in your goodness, then I do as well. I don’t blame you for any of this.” </p><p>He found he couldn’t breathe, never having expected forgiveness or pardon from this woman of all people. She’d watched as he killed her father. He’d stood by and let his own magic destroy this kingdom and harm her people. </p><p>“How can you mean that?” He whispered. “I’ve done such terrible things.”</p><p>Morgana’s face softened, and she took a small step back as if to show she meant no harm. “I would like to know you, brother. Come. May I see your face?”</p><p>Merlin wanted to refuse, wanted to keep her at a distance and therefore safe from him. From Emrys. But she was offering something he’d yearned for his whole life. The acceptance of a family, someone who maybe wanted to see the real Merlin, and not just the magic. How could he resist such an offer?</p><p>Slowly, he entered the room and shut the door behind him. The sweet smell of lavender filled his senses as a gentle gust of wind wafted through the blooms set before the window. It was lovely. Morgana was lovely. And he couldn’t be accepted or pardoned just like that. He wanted…he needed to beg for her absolution properly. </p><p>Without looking up at her, he pulled away his cloak and hood and tossed them carelessly to the floor. Then he made his way to stand before her, seeing from the corner of his eye how she held her ground. </p><p>Biting his lip, he sank to his knees before her, bowing his head and struggling to find the words. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness; how could he even ask for such a thing?</p><p>A hand came to rest upon his hair, and Merlin clenched his eyes closed. </p><p>“I’m so sorry.” He managed to grit out. </p><p>The single word was much too small for the scope of his sins, but she was the first person he was able to ever utter it to, and it broke something open inside of him. </p><p>He cried silently, his whole body trembling. The hand in his hair became a pair of arms around his neck, and he found himself pressed into the softness of an embrace he had never experience before. She smelled like cinnamon and magic, and <i>home</i>, and he didn’t dare to touch her. He couldn’t give into this comfort she offered. His hands remained fisted on his knees, and the ice of them seeped into his bones. </p><p>“Shh.” She spoke against his ear. “I already forgave you. I promise, you won’t be alone in this.”</p><p>It was more than he knew what to do with, and he could now sense the way she wore her magic like a perfume. It was tantalizing and overwhelming, and he was much too close. </p><p>He wouldn’t let Emrys touch her. </p><p>“You need to let go.” He mumbled, loath to be parted, but he had to protect her. </p><p>Morgana held her breath for a moment before letting it out in a slow gust. She released him and he sat back quickly to see her kneeling there on the floor before him. Like an equal when he was so much dirt. </p><p>She looked at him with those big green eyes, calculating. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” She questioned, demanding an explanation. Merlin decided it was the least he could give her.</p><p>“I- I would take your magic.” He rushed out. “It would kill you, and I’m- it’s getting harder to stop it.” Her eyes were wide but her face showed no disgust or fear as he’d expected. “It’s Emrys.” He tried to elaborate, but even he didn’t know what that meant. “It’s like a creature inside me, and it is only good for dark magic. For hurting things. And when I feel your magic…it wants to take it from you.” </p><p>He felt a liar for blaming this black side of him on a mythical name, but he couldn’t bear to say it was him yet. To own it. It still didn’t feel like him even as he knew the truth of it. </p><p>Morgana considered his words for a moment then rose gracefully to her feet. “Please, come sit by the fire. You felt as cold as ice.” </p><p>Confused at her abrupt change in pace, he followed her to sit in one of the chairs by the hearth. No fire could ever warm him, but he wanted to do whatever she asked of him.</p><p>“Merlin.” She began quietly, “Emrys is not a monster.” She met his eyes steadily, the sincerity of her expression giving him a traitorous glimmer of hope. He hadn’t found mention of Emrys in any of his father’s books, but maybe she knew something he didn’t. “All the legends say that Emrys is simply pure magic. Magic itself is not evil, nor can it ever only hurt. Surely you must know of the cycle of life, the balance of the world. It is impossible for something to be purely dark. There is always a side of light to oppose it. And magic is the balance of both.” </p><p>It was simple, the basic principles of magic, but Merlin knew he didn’t fit those parameters anymore. </p><p>“No.” He said quietly. “This magic is rotted through the core. If it will require balance, then nothing but my death could ever measure weighty enough.” </p><p>He hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t even know her. But it was the fearful truth that was crushing him, and he wanted her to show him he was wrong.</p><p>She looked so sad. He didn’t know what to do with that.</p><p>She sat quietly for a moment, her fingers lingering on a small chain that clasped around her wrist. When he looked at it, he could feel a small pulse of magic set in the blue gem woven into it. It was warm and safe, it felt like a nugget of something like love, and he looked up to find her watching him. He wondered if she had made it. He had a sudden wild thought. Was her magic the balance to his? This beautiful woman, his sister. Would she be able to temper Emrys?</p><p>Morgana fumbled for something that she had placed on the table beside her seat, and she held out a small jewelry box to him.</p><p>“I had thought this was mine. It is a matching set.” She lifted her wrist so the firelight twinkled off her bracelet. “They said my- <i>our</i> mother made them before I was born. No one knew about you. Naturally, I assumed they were heirlooms meant for me.” </p><p>She continued to offer the box and Merlin hesitantly reached to take it. It felt heavier than he expected. Heavy with magic. And a lump was building in his throat. </p><p>“I used to have terrible nightmares.” She confided. “Visions. My magic was wild and uncontrollable at night. Yet, the night I accidentally wore this bracelet to sleep, I dreamed not once.” She smiled at him warmly. “I was afraid of my magic. I wasn’t strong enough to control it until I found this. Mother’s protection. She somehow knew I would need it.” </p><p>Merlin’s eyes dropped to the box in his hands. Could it be so simple? She couldn’t mean…?</p><p>“That one was made for you.” Morgana confirmed. “It never sat right with me, and I never realized who it was meant for until I saw you that day. When I learned you were my brother.” The day her father died. And still she saved this gift for him. </p><p>She was giving him a chance to choose something good, and he couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes as he opened it to see an amulet set with sapphires nestled among a long silver chain. The magic- It was his <i>mother’s</i> magic. And Morgana was right. It called to him. He couldn’t bear to touch it, even as the echoes of warmth, protection, and love wafted from it. </p><p>He closed the lid of the box with a snap and clutched it in his frozen hands. His thumb traced the pattern of letters carved into the top, an ‘M’, and his heart beat so hard he felt it would falter within his chest. </p><p>“Wont you wear it?” She pressed.</p><p>Merlin couldn’t explain it. “I can’t.” He said. </p><p>He was terrified his father would sense it, would take it from him. He was even more terrified that Emrys would sense it, and take it from him. He wouldn’t take that chance. Either of them.</p><p>“Merlin-“ Morgana began, before the door suddenly flung open to ricochet off the wall. </p><p>Arthur charged into the room like a man possessed, but stumbled to a halt as he caught sight of its transformation. He stared in bewilderment before his eyes came to rest on them. Morgana had already risen gracefully from her seat, and cocked an amused eyebrow at Arthur.</p><p>“In a bit of a hurry, My Lord?”</p><p>“Please, call me Arthur.” He snorted, straightened his shoulders and all but swaggered over to them. He was covered in mud and sweat, and his smelled like he’d spent some time in the smithy. His eyes were bright and animated, and when he looked at Merlin his smile was blinding.</p><p>“Merlin.” He greeted. “It’s good to see you.” His eyes said <i>I missed you</i>, and Merlin tried to bite down on the smile that escaped him anyway. </p><p>His cheeks felt hot. And Morgana was starting to smirk at him again. Was having a sister always so embarrassing?</p><p>Arthur looked between them with raised eyebrows, before giving a small bark of laughter. “By the gods, you do look alike.”</p><p>Morgana slanted a look at Merlin, and her smirk quickly changed into an expression as if she’d just remembered something.</p><p>“I would like to take you somewhere.” She said. “There is a portrait hall.” She meant to show him their mother, and Merlin stood from his chair abruptly. </p><p>“Wait a moment.” Arthur said, stepping between them to show them the pair of thick shears he’d brought. The metal blade looked strong enough to cut through bone, and Merlin saw his guess of the smithy had been right. “Were you able to find what I asked you to?” He asked Morgana, and she nodded eagerly, turning to Merlin with a smile.</p><p>“If I spell this tool, it should be able to cut through anything.” She explained, and Merlin glanced at Arthur in confusion. </p><p>“Your bracelet, Merlin.” He clarified, and Merlin couldn’t even properly feel the hope before it crashed uselessly to the ground.</p><p>“It won’t work.” He said bitterly. “It only answers to his magic alone.” </p><p>“We won’t know until we try.” Arthur replied firmly, and turned to hold the cutters out to Morgana. “If you would be so kind, Milady?”</p><p>She accepted them with a flourish, before she grew serious. The next moment she began her spell, and Merlin took a few hasty steps away at the unguarded flare of magic. She wielded it purposefully and comfortably, and he was fascinated by her command. She was powerful, and the pure feeling of her magic was so unbelievably beautiful. </p><p>Emrys was awake and watching as well, yearning, and Merlin found himself putting the chair between them as well.</p><p>When Morgana looked up at him, gold eyes fading back to green, she frowned to see him cowering behind the chair. Her eyes dropped to where the box with her gift was curled into his palm. It was encased in ice, and where the other hand gripped the back of the chair there were trails of frost curling thickly all down it. Where it ran along the arms, icicles dripped into perfection. </p><p>She looked at him again, and he saw she was starting to understand. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” She said, and then he could breathe again for she managed to tuck her magic neatly away. </p><p>The craving in him lingered, but Emrys was unable to force his body to move and there was no way he would be touching her.</p><p>Arthur took the cutters and came to Merlin’s side. Merlin unclenched the fingers that nearly stuck to the chair, and thrust his arm out further to bare his wrist. </p><p>Morgana made a choked sort of noise as she saw the bracelet. He knew what she must sense from it, and he couldn’t help but think of the bracelet that graced her own wrist. All the talk of balancing, one from each parent, and these two artifacts were as day and night.</p><p>He wasn’t surprised when it failed. The cutters melted where they attempted to cut the bracelet, and Arthur dropped them with a yelp as the material heated to red hot in a matter of seconds.</p><p>“Are you alright?” He reached for Arthur’s hands, and Arthur let him take them. He was looking down at the crumpled lump of metal with anger clouding his face. </p><p>“We will have to try another spell.” He decided, and his warm hands encased Merlin’s fingers in apology. </p><p>“It’s no use.” Merlin repeated, but Arthur shook his head. </p><p>“We keep trying.” He said stubbornly, and Merlin couldn’t help but love him for it.</p><p>Arthur turned Merlin’s hands over in his own, looking down at where water beaded on the surface of the box as it thawed under his warmth. His eyes flickered to Merlin curiously, and Merlin didn’t hesitate to curl Arthur’s fingers around the item. </p><p>He pulled away from Artur’s touch and turned to Morgana. She was watching them with an unreadable expression, as if she was seeing something else than that which was before her, but it cleared into a smile as she saw his anticipation.</p><p>“Shall we?” She lifted her arm, as if ready for him to take it and escort her, before she remembered and lowered it with a twist of her lips.</p><p>Merlin smiled at her tentatively. “Please.” </p><p>Arthur’s hand on his elbow stopped him. “What’s this?” He asked quietly indicating the box. </p><p>“Keep it safe for me?” Merlin knew he would. Arthur met his gaze steadily and nodded.</p><p>“Go on, then. I’ll be here when you get back.”</p><p>Merlin followed Morgana to the door and turned back once just before he left. Arthur was stood before the fire cradling the little box in his large capable hands. His fingers trailed over the lettering engraved on the lid, and a small smile was curving his lips. He was beautiful glowing in the firelight. </p><p>Merlin took the image with him as he went to go see his mother for the first time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>********************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't believe this story is coming to the end ! T_T Aaand I can't believe I wrote this whole thing in just a few weeks...I have always been the months without updates, dragging a fic over years type of gal :S Merthur just put my brain in overdrive and killed me.<br/>d.e.d. dead. I love them forever. *uglycries*<br/>Next chap is where we get to the title of this story finally :) I'm sad it's done.....but have some other things I'm going to work on so hopefully will be able to share something new with you soon ~~ </p><p>Thank you so much for giving this a read, I really hope you like it despite all its flaws and long ramblyness! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p>Arthur cleaned himself up quickly after they left, grateful for Morgana’s hospitality. He hadn’t had such luxury in a long time, and it almost felt as if none of the past months had even happened.</p><p>Splashing water about as he tried his best to rinse the mud out of his hair, he wondered if he could even call for a bath. There was no shortage of water any longer. Merlin would probably be able to show him how to heat it with magic, and as he stripped off his dirty tunic to wash his torso with a wet rag, he couldn’t help how his mind wandered in the direction of wet bare skin, of one thing leading to another, and- Gods, he hadn’t felt like this since he was a teenager discovering passion for the first time. </p><p>Merlin was just different than anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this way for anyone before, and he cherished each moment of fluttering in his stomach, of the longing and all-encompassing fixation on when they would next be together. </p><p>He didn’t know how long Merlin would be, and while he also wished to see the portrait of the late Queen, to see Merlin’s mother, he wouldn’t intrude on such a moment between siblings just getting to know one another. </p><p>He found a pair of what seemed to be sleeping garments in the clothing chest, and placed the second set aside for Merlin.</p><p>It felt rather domestic even as his pulse quickened slightly in anticipation. Would Merlin let him close? Would he let him touch? </p><p>Merlin had trusted him with so much of himself, Arthur wanted to respect his efforts to keep them both safe even while Arthur’s natural tendency was to jump in with both feet. Where Merlin was concerned, he seemed caught between the desire to give him everything and the need to keep him safe- even from himself.</p><p>The compulsion to sacrifice himself no longer remained, but it hadn’t been much different from how Arthur already felt. He would gladly give Merlin his magic if that was what he needed, and he still hadn’t given up on the idea even though Balinor wanting it as well seemed a good indicator that he should avoid it.</p><p>He hated how he’d pushed yesterday after Merlin refused him, how he’d tried to follow him and force him even as he’d tried to run. Even if Arthur had been out of his mind, he was still ashamed of his actions. </p><p>He just didn’t know what he was meant to do with his magic, and he <i>needed</i> to free Merlin.</p><p>To fill the time spent waiting in the empty room, he tried to practice keeping his magic subdued and inactive as it used to be, finding in frustration that it was harder than merely putting his mind to it. Now that his magic had been freed and used, it was just there, an extension of his senses like another limb, and he knew he had much to learn yet. </p><p>He wanted to keep it back, though, for the solely selfish reason of being able to sleep once more with Merlin in his arms. </p><p>When he tired of struggling to repress something that was just part of him now, he collapsed onto the bed. Something hard poked his shoulder, and he sat up quickly to see the little box Merlin had given him.</p><p>Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took it up curiously. It hummed with magic that tingled through his fingers, and Arthur quickly gave into the urge to open it. </p><p>The amulet inside was a masterful piece, not just in the intricate design and worth of the gem, but for its magic. He’d never felt something of its likeness, and he brushed fingers over it reverently, marveling in the power it exuded. </p><p>“Morgana gave it to me.” </p><p>He started, not having heard Merlin enter, and looked up to see him hesitating awkwardly in the doorway. His big golden eyes seemed overly bright, and the stoop of his shoulders somehow spoke of a heavy burden that had been lifted. He looked exhausted, but his smile was one of the truest Arthur had yet seen. </p><p>He looked so very human and real, and Arthur felt keenly how much this man was starting to mean to him.</p><p>He pat the space beside him on the bed invitingly, trying not so smile when Merlin immediately responded. There was a rather large space between them as he settled himself, but Arthur didn’t mind as Merlin’s eyes raked over him shyly before pink tinged those cheekbones. </p><p>Arthur had left the ties of the sleep shirt undone, and he may have also ruffled his wet hair into something of a nest. He wasn’t sure what he looked like without a mirror, but Merlin’s appreciative eyes on him felt good. He hadn’t really intended to try and seduce Merlin- just- he may have totally wanted to seduce Merlin.  </p><p>Clearing his throat, Merlin avoided Arthur’s heated look and instead focused on the amulet. Arthur saw the way his face changed when he laid eyes on it. Something soft and wistful, something filled with such longing. </p><p>“She said my mother made it.” He whispered, and Arthur looked down at it with new eyes. “She made it for <i>me</i>.” He repeated, and his voice was choked with emotion. </p><p>Arthur knew the love of a mother, remembered how it felt to curl into her arms as a child with loving hands running through his hair. Her warm smell, the way she seemed able to fix all his problems, and her voice singing him to sleep. His heart ached. </p><p>Somehow Merlin’s mother had put all of that love into a jewel, and he didn’t understand why Merlin wasn’t already wearing it.</p><p>“You should put it on.” He said, and Merlin recoiled from him as if Arthur would try and wind it about his neck without his permission.</p><p>“I can’t.” He sounded so sad. </p><p>“Why not?” </p><p>“It- I’m afraid.” He confessed. “I’m afraid Emrys will destroy it.”</p><p>Arthur hadn’t thought of that and he didn’t want that to happen, yet he wanted Merlin to truly feel the magic that would sooth him as nothing else could. Now that he thought of it, the magic within the jewel reminded him fiercely of his own mother.</p><p>He hadn’t known of his magic, yet it was there, ready for him to use. Ygraine wouldn’t have known of her magic either, but when she sang his lullaby he had felt so loved and safe, had always slept well. Her voice and her song had always been one of his most precious things, and it was dawning on him that it wasn’t just another song a mother used to sing her child to sleep. </p><p>It had been magic. </p><p>He knew the feel of it now, and she had blessed him with her magic every night as a lad. In that moment, he missed her so dearly he could hardly breathe.</p><p>“Merlin.” He said quietly, and the other scooted a little closer to him at his suddenly serious tone. “In Alba…no one knows of magic. But of course, it is still there. It’s always been there. I just realized my mother used it for me, the feel of this amulet reminded me. She used to sing to me when I was young, and in her voice was <i>magic</i>.” </p><p>Merlin looked at him with big wonderous eyes, sharing in Arthur’s joy, in this discovery that filled him with such warmth. </p><p>“I think I know the song.” Merlin whispered. At Arthur’s questioning look he gestured to the earring that had once held Arthur’s voice. “I could hear it, in little broken fragments. When I was going to sleep I thought I could hear you singing it. I never could make out a single word clearly, but it comforted me all the same.” </p><p>A little smile curled his lips, and Arthur shared it with him. If even an echo of the magic of that song could soothe Merlin, then what would the full thing be able to do?</p><p>“Would you like to hear it?” He asked, and Merlin’s eyes practically shone as he nodded. “I never knew it was to be sung with magic, but now-“ His fingers lingered over the blue gem of the necklace. It felt so similar. “If I may?” He asked, indicating the piece. </p><p>If he could wear this during, he was sure he would be able to call the proper magic to infuse the song in the way he remembered. </p><p>Merlin reached out and carefully lifted the amulet from its velvet bed. Arthur bent his head forward and Merlin reached around his neck to fasten it for him. Arthur breathed in Merlin’s scent, as sharp and crisp as winter air, and the long fingers that clumsily fumbled with the clasp were ice against the warm skin of his neck. He wanted to take Merlin’s hands in his own and try to warm them, but the sudden flush of magic from the amulet overwhelmed him into distraction. </p><p>For a long moment he was surrounded by the love of a mother, and he felt at peace. He breathed a long slow breath out through his nose and looked up at Merlin. Those golden eyes roamed his face, and that look of desperate longing was back on it. </p><p>Arthur wanted to take it off and place it around Merlin’s neck right that instant. Merlin should have felt this first. He shouldn’t have asked for this treasure, but if he could at least get the magic to work through the lullaby then Merlin should be able to feel it as well. </p><p>He wanted to do this for him, and any shyness he might have felt in bursting into song was insignificant in the face of the gift he wanted to give.</p><p>Closing his eyes, he let the feel of the magic sink into him, so thick and sweet- all warmed honey and summer nights bright with fireflies and happy laughter. His own magic rose to meet it, and they swirled together into one big blaze of contentment that wanted to burst out from inside him.</p><p>He quietly began to sing the lullaby, basking in that feeling as he did. </p><p>The lyrics came to him easily, and the familiar images of deer frolicking under a shining moon and starlight made him smile. The song was about calling down the moon to light the night with magic, to wrap him up in gossamer threads of moonlight and cradle him like a babe. </p><p>It was all silver and gentle as she had rocked him or stroked his hair, and Arthur’s hand came up to wrap around the gem as he felt the magic spill from him into the room. It felt like nothing he’d ever known, and he opened his eyes to see Merlin staring back at him, entranced, and he hoped soon to be quite literally enchanted. </p><p>The air between them shimmered faintly as he began the second verse. All was calm and safe. It felt as if he was sharing a piece of his soul, and the tears in Merlin’s eyes mirrored his own. He sang of the sprites in a lake dancing across gleaming moonlit waters, their dresses made of drops of water that sparkled with moon dust. It made Merlin giggle even as he beamed, and the look on his face made Arthur push more magic into his voice. </p><p>He wanted to wrap Merlin in it so he’d never again feel the touch of the cold, never again feel such hate for himself.</p><p>The shimmer became a cloud of gold, and he didn’t notice at first when Merlin’s smile faded and his body flinched in discomfort. He was starting to sing the refrain once more, when the light of the room shifted. </p><p>Merlin was glowing. </p><p>It was faint and milky white, a gentle pulse that turned pale skin luminous, and he faltered as he recognized the signs of Merlin reacting to the touch of magic. The other’s face had gone oddly blank, and just as he was going to stop and ask if he was alright, Merlin’s eyes flared bright. Brighter and stronger than ever before, the gold burning so hot it was nearly white and then he cried out in alarm and his back arched in pain.</p><p>“Arthur- stop singing!” His voice rose quickly in pitch, panicked, and Arthur cut off abruptly, the comfort from the amulet sitting at odds with the quickly pooling dread in his gut. “Arthur-“ He gasped again, now radiant with the light and shivering uncontrollably- ice crackled along his skin as if alive. </p><p>The air had gone predictably cold again, their rapid breaths expelled in white fog. The ballad still lingered in the air, floating around them in wisps of magic, and Arthur was helpless to dispel it as Merlin suddenly groaned and pressed his hands to his sides.</p><p>“Arthur!” He whimpered, and Arthur moved closer to ghost his hands along his shoulders, afraid to touch him and make it worse. “The runes are <i>burning</i> me!” </p><p>Tears were spilling from his eyes, and they were like pearls dropping to the bed. Where they landed they shattered into white dust. </p><p>“Merlin, what do I do?” Arthur demanded, staring at those impossible broken tears in growing panic, staring at Merlin glowing and hurting <i>again</i>. He had done this to him again, and the gift he’d tried to give him had gone so wrong. </p><p>This was worse than he’d ever seen yet, and he hated how there was nothing for him to <i>fight</i>.</p><p>“Arthur. We were wrong.” He choked out desperately. </p><p>It was hard to make out his words as he gasped and tensed with each flare of the runes. Arthur felt sick as he caught the smell of burning flesh, and his eyes burned helplessly. Arthur clenched his useless fists so tightly his nails drew blood, but still he couldn’t touch him or ease his pain. </p><p>“Wrong about what, Merlin?” He tried to keep his voice calm and soothing, tried to stay in control when Merlin was beside himself and battling something Arthur couldn’t see. Merlin had to be strong enough to fight this.</p><p>“This magic is not mine.” Merlin panted through more of those awful tears. “It’s not Emrys. I think it’s-it’s the <i>moon</i>.” He let out a horrible noise as his face crumpled, his chest heaving, “It’s trapped inside of me. It’s alive- and so <i>malicious</i>, and how- how is this even possible? I just want to get it out!”</p><p>Arthur couldn’t understand it either, but he had seen too many impossible horrors recently to not believe it. </p><p>He couldn’t let him go through this alone. Merlin was swaying and shaking, freezing to death before his eyes, and Arthur had to help him.</p><p>Before he could even reach for him, Merlin was already lurching forward. He clasped Arthur to himself in a death grip as he groaned in agony. His arms were so cold they burned. Arthur’s skin was going numb where they clutched at each other, but he pressed his tear-stained face to Merlin’s hair and just held him anyway. </p><p>Merlin strained and convulsed against him, and it was as if Arthur could <i>feel</i> the creature, was it really the moon?, pushing and struggling against it’s human prison. He would take it into himself if he could. He would free Merlin from it right now, if only he didn’t think Merlin may not survive such a thing. </p><p>It terrified him beyond words at the very real possibility there was no way to save him. Not from something as huge as this. Could they even hope to subdue it again? His mind was racing and his magic was rising and he didn’t know what to do but just pour it into Merlin.</p><p>At the touch of it, Merlin jerked with a mumbled ‘no’, but his hands were lifting from Arthur’s back to grip his hair instead. Then he was kissing him fiercely and his mouth was so cold. He tasted like magic that was sharp and dangerous, stinging the back of his throat, and Arthur tried to temper it with heat, to make his magic stronger and to win Merlin back from this parasite. </p><p>His magic flared brighter and hotter with each kiss, each place they touched a searing battle that sizzled and sparked, and Merlin sobbed against his lips as he just grew colder, ice crusting his lashes. Arthur felt dizzy with the ferocity with which his magic leapt to Merlin’s defense, and he knew it wasn’t working. They were just feeding the increasing frenzy of the wild thing trapped within him, and he pulled away from Merlin with despair. </p><p>Merlin was lit like a star, like the <i>moon</i>, it was clear now, emanating phantom moonlight that painted the room in stark white and black shadows. His face was so pale, pleading with him to have some answer and Arthur only had one thing left to try before he feared this may already be their last battle.</p><p>He hooked his fingers around the chain looping his neck and quickly pulled it off. Before Merlin could react either way, he slipped it over his dark head, tugging the amulet down and into place so it rested on bare skin beneath the fabric of his tunic. </p><p>The effect was almost instantaneous. </p><p>Merlin sagged bonelessly to the bed, the light seeping from his body faded into nothing and the fire roared back to life loudly to bathe the room in yellow heat. Merlin lay there in a heap, crying now for what Arthur expected to be a very different reason as he lifted both hands to press against the charm, cradling it and curling around it protectively. Arthur was relieved to see his tears were just tears once more.</p><p>“Arthur.” He called, and Arthur folded him into his arms. </p><p>His skin was already warming quickly, but Arthur still rubbed hands along his arms and back to try and speed the process. Merlin winced at the touch, and Arthur rose on one elbow to carefully tug the back of his tunic up. </p><p>When the runes were exposed to the room, Arthur sucked air through his teeth as he saw how they looked like hot brands freshly burned into him. The skin around them was red and inflamed, and Arthur knew they needed to be treated immediately. </p><p>Merlin rolled his head around to look up at him. His eyes were still wet but he was smiling, and Arthur ran a hand along his cheek lovingly. </p><p>“Are you well?” He asked, knowing there was no way he could be after what just happened.</p><p>Merlin’s smile was sad as he nodded. “I’ve never known this feeling.” He confessed. “This magic. It’s so powerful and <i>good</i>. I never knew her, but I miss her.”</p><p>Arthur couldn’t resist dipping his head to press a kiss against his lips. Merlin cupped the back of his head and opened his mouth to accept him. The kiss was lingering and warm, and he could feel the amulet between them like a heartbeat. Pulling away, he gazed down at Merlin with what felt like stars in his eyes. Gods, but he was starting to love him too much.</p><p>“We need to treat your wounds.” He said.</p><p>Merlin shrugged awkwardly and shook his head. “It won’t matter. It will just try to come out again. It came so close just now, Arthur.” He bit his lips while his fingers played absently with the hair at Artur’s nape. “I need you to know-“ He paused, face twisting. “I wanted to tell you what you mean to me, because- I fear I will have to leave you behind-”</p><p>“No, Merlin.” Arthur wouldn’t let them go there, wouldn’t let him try to say goodbye before the battle was hardly begun. “I won’t give up on you. There must be a way to free you- to free <i>it</i>.” </p><p>It seemed bound by the runes, and they both knew Arthur was capable of removing those.</p><p>“It’s been here for too long.” Merlin said. “I think since I was a child.” He looked away from Arthur with furrowed brows. “My father must have captured it, but I can’t remember it properly. I used to have nightmares….but it feels like part of me, now. It feels like it will rip me apart on its way out- and I just don’t know what will be left of me.”</p><p>“I would still try, Merlin.” He said. “We can’t just leave it be. My magic seems to strengthen it, but what if I could use it to take from it instead? What if we could weaken it, and once the runes are gone it could leave you?”</p><p>“I don’t know. It has only grown more powerful on your magic. What happens if we fail, and it takes me over?” </p><p>“Then we find something to help us, a weapon or a spell, something to make us stronger. We can ask Morgana. And Gaius. You are not alone.”</p><p>Merlin turned back to him, his expression indulgent but Arthur could see he was close to giving up. “Alright.” Was all he said. </p><p>He tugged Arthur’s hair gently. He was slowly relaxing, seeming to melt further into the bed as his mother’s magic continued to work, to protect him. Arthur found the sight of him impossibly alluring, and he had to kiss him again. Merlin’s lips smiled against his.</p><p>When they parted, Arthur urged Merlin to sit, and ignored his feeble protests as he helped him remove his tunic. He rifled through the clothing until he found a suitably soft piece he then proceeded to rip into makeshift bandages. Merlin relaxed even further as Arthur carefully wrapped them as best he could around his torso. He had nothing to put on the burns, but he would take Merlin to see Gaius the next day regardless of his excuses. </p><p>The amulet rested against the bare skin of his chest, and Arthur ran a finger over it. His touch lingered on the sweet magic before he drew his fingers slowly up Merlin’s sternum to the hollow of his throat. He looked at him up through his lashes with a smirk, trailing the touch up his neck to finally trace over his lips. He followed the path of his fingers with his mouth. Merlin was smiling again by the time he was done kissing him. Arthur loved how his kisses made Merlin smile.</p><p>He pushed him to lay back on the bed before settling beside him once more. This was starting to feel easy and comfortable between them, and there was no where else in the world he’d rather be.</p><p>“Do you remember the moon in the sky?” Merlin suddenly asked.</p><p>Arthur considered. “Not as such.” He said. “I was quite young still when it disappeared. But when you, um- <i>glow</i>-” Merlin raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Well, the light is the same. I remember the color of it coming through my window. Or on clear nights, the whole land would be lit silver and black. Moonlight always felt quiet. And cold.”</p><p>“I understand the cold part of it.” Merlin said dryly, and slipped his icicle fingers down the back of Arthur’s tunic. Merlin’s face was carefully neutral, but the teasing touch sent shivers down his spine. </p><p>“Merlin.” He grumbled, helpless against the wave of arousal that followed. Merlin’s irresistible lips pulled into a smirk, and Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Is that a challenge to warm you up?”</p><p>Merlin hesitated, but Arthur rolled off his side until he was fully on top of him, his weight pressing Merlin bodily into the mattress. “I won’t use any magic.” He promised, pushing one knee between Merlin’s legs and reveling in the feel of them pressed together. Merlin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.   </p><p>They kissed for long minutes, endless minutes filled with hot breath and even hotter mouths. Merlin was so responsive to every brush of his tongue, every caress and squeeze of his hand. The soft sounds Arthur drew from him felt so private, something fragile, and he did his best to worship this body that had taken so much abuse. Tried to show his love for the scarred man who looked up at him trustingly with those beautiful, magical eyes.</p><p>There was something shy and unexperienced in the way he stayed so quiet, soft breathy moans catching in his throat as he resisted the urge he must feel to buck up into Arthur’s hand. He was hot and hard, and the low drawn out sound Arthur finally elicited after closing his mouth around him was all the encouragement he needed to try and get Merlin to forget everything but his touch. Nothing mattered for now but them. </p><p>Merlin at last without any restraints, throwing his head back to bare the long pale column of his throat as he came undone, was beautiful. The way his black hair stuck to his temples in sweat slick curls was beautiful. The panting of his narrow chest against Arthur’s as he curled about him once again, felt so full of life, and those soft lips, he could never stop kissing those lips.   </p><p>Merlin told him about his childhood as they lay together, sated and warm, wrapped in each other’s arms. The story he told was everything Arthur had expected and more. Merlin’s impossibly vast power seemed like it had no bounds when he set his mind to it, when something interested him or even when he was simply bored.</p><p>When he heard how that power was used so innocently by a very lonely but magical child, Arthur couldn’t help but want to bring that boy back. The one full of the wonder of magic, the one who grew strawberries in the winter, the one who charmed a wild buck into letting it ride on his back, and formed fantastical kingdoms in the clouds.</p><p>That beautiful spark was still there, he knew it. Merlin would have given in and truly become a fearsome monster long ago if it wasn’t. </p><p>He told him so, but Merlin merely pressed his face into his neck and didn’t say anything. What would it take to heal the damage so many years of torture had inflicted? He wondered if Merlin would find peace if he could heal and help the land and people he had wronged. He wanted to give him that opportunity. The opportunity to love magic again, to learn to love himself.</p><p>“I miss your magic.” Arthur said, and perhaps it was a little insensitive as Merlin must miss it infinitely more. He felt it was a little too close to what he really meant but couldn’t say yet. “When I am king, my first command will be for you to make me a new dragon mural alongside a garden full of strawberries. Those two are my favorite. Did I ever mention my surname was Pendragon?”</p><p>Merlin gave a small reluctant laugh before pressing his lips against his collarbone. “You can grow your own strawberries, prat.”     </p><p>“You would still have to teach me.” Arthur smiled, thinking of that awkward, hesitant Merlin who’d shown him how to use magic for the first time. </p><p>It felt like no time at all since then, and yet he couldn’t remember his life without Merlin in it. </p><p>“We’ll see.” Merlin murmured, and Arthur just knew he was thinking <i>again</i> that he wouldn’t survive this. He couldn’t bear the thought of a future without him in it, either. “But…you will be king?” Merlin abruptly asked, and Arthur heard the uncertainty in his voice that he failed to hide.</p><p>He tugged Merlin’s face up to plant a kiss on his lips. “The first thing I told Morgana when I met her was that my heart was taken by another.” He looked him straight in the eye. “Taken by you.” </p><p>Merlin looked at him with big eyes, too flustered to speak for a moment as he flushed. Then his eyes narrowed. “The first thing? You must know I won’t believe that.”</p><p>Arthur laughed. “You should ask her. I’m sure she’d love a chance to tease me.”</p><p>Merlin grimaced. “If you marry my sister, I will never talk to you again.”</p><p>Arthur tugged him back down into his chest. “I won’t marry her, Merlin.” He promised. “But I would still be king here. I would do right by Camelot, and I can only do that if I take the place I was meant to fill.” His hands threaded through Merlin’s hair, glad he couldn’t see his face when he admitted to the next part. “I would do right by you, too.” </p><p>Merlin’s fingers traced patterns along his chest. “I- I would be yours, Arthur. Yet, I have done too much evil to ever ask for your forgiveness.”</p><p>“There’s nothing I have not already forgiven, you idiot.” He said. </p><p>And then there was no more talking between them. Only more touching and kissing and then later, a long while later, exhaustion pulling them towards sleep. When Merlin sleepily hummed the melody to the moon ballad against his ear, Arthur knew this was how he wanted to end everyday, for the rest of his days. This was home.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Arthur tracked Morgana down again the next morning. </p><p>She was easy enough to find if the flow of heavily laden servants from the direction of the royal storerooms was any indication. Arthur couldn’t help but feel fond of the sight of the lady in her blue silken gown standing amidst the chaos and directing it like a puppetmaster. Her eye fell on him, and her regal nod of greeting made him grin.</p><p>“You there, Sir knight.” She called, and Arthur approached her with a roll of his eyes.</p><p>He brushed a kiss over the back of her hand and then stepped in closer to speak in a low tone. “Have you any means to send a message to my brother?”</p><p>Morgana didn’t take her eyes off of the bustling servants as she dipped her head slightly. “We have the usual pigeons in the aviary.” She paused and her lips curled into that pleased smirk he was starting to see was an expression she used frequently with the ease of a comfortable weapon. “Then there is a raven I have personally raised from the nest. She’s trained with a little persuasion of the royal variety.” Her eyes sparkled gold through one flutter of her long lashes, and Arthur failed to suppress a huff of amusement. </p><p>“Well, then. I think time is of the essence, if I may be so bold as to humbly request the service of your Ladyship’s raven?” </p><p>“By all means, My Lord.” Morgana said graciously, and left his side to speak to the steward and leave him with her instructions.</p><p>Morgana slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow, and he didn’t even falter at the familiar feeling of escorting a lady. He’d forgotten for a moment he was no such lord here, and the odd glances of the servants made him want to pull away. It wouldn’t do to tarnish Morgana’s reputation with such a gesture, but Morgana dug her nails into his arm like a cat.</p><p>Her smile was pleasant, but her voice held no room for argument as she practically dragged him from the room. “These people will know you soon enough, Arthur. Let them speculate and gossip. I bet not a one of them will be able to guess the truth of you before you’re revealed.” </p><p>Nothing she said or did was without purpose or previous calculations, and Arthur internally groaned as he realized he would soon have to step foot back into the tangled pleasantries and constant navigation of courtly intrigue. Not that his break from such things had been very enjoyable, but it had been nice to be free of titles and duties for once. He knew he would long for those same burdens should they be denied him much longer, so for now he would ignore the stares and whispers and simply go along with Morgana’s schemes.</p><p>The message he wrote was short but to the point. </p><p>He told Leon to retreat, to save the men from certain death against vengeful magic. Merlin had cried when he told him what happened in the council chamber the other day. Arthur was terrified to learn that Leon had been wounded, or killed that day with him none the wiser. He promised he would take care of the threat and urged Leon to return home and fortify Alba in the event he should fail. He signed it ‘Mooney’, and unthinkingly pressed a kiss to the seal as he always did. </p><p>Morgana just smirked as usual, and Arthur ignored her as he fastened it carefully to the meticulously gleaming raven. The look in its black beady eyes was far too intelligent, and the affectionate way it rubbed it’s head on Morgana’s cheek before taking wing out the window spoke of a connection that Arthur found himself rather envious of.</p><p>Morgana caught his look and tilted her head slightly. “You could train one of your own, if you like. Branwen has been my little secret for many years. It would be a wondrous thing indeed for magic to be embraced by the royalty once again. We would no longer have to suppress it or hide.” She looked wistfully after the path the bird had taken.</p><p>“If magic has always been the mark of kings and queens, there must be precedent for such things.” Arthur mused, the idea of bringing peace, prosperity, and <i>magic</i> to Camelot slowly forming into a challenge he felt compelled to take.</p><p>Morgana must have been running along similar thoughts. “You may be right. I shall spend a visit to our librarian and historian, Lord Geoffrey. Perhaps he may provide us with such histories that tell of how magic can be part of our court. I only hope we will have the opportunity to implement it.”</p><p>Arthur frowned. “Would this Lord Geoffrey have any insights on where to find information regarding the destruction of magical artifacts?”</p><p>Morgana’s grin was slow and excited. “Oh, I am sure that old man would know just the thing.” At Arthur’s curious look she nodded to the small bookshelf that rested against the far wall. “Gaius gave me a book on magic when it was clear my powers were not content to remain dormant, regardless of the laws of kings. No doubt there are more of where that came from.”</p><p>“Then we shall wait for your summons.” Arthur bowed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I would see to the training of the knights.”</p><p>As he turned to go, Morgana’s hand snagged in his elbow and she looked up at him with serious green eyes. </p><p>“Thank you, Arthur. While I resented our agreement to marriage at first, I cannot be more grateful to have been sent a man such as you.” </p><p>Her smile was beautiful, a face full of hope, and Arthur clasped her hand between his once before taking his leave.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin finally gave in after Arthur begged him for the second day in a row to come watch him practice with the knights. As he sat unobtrusively to one side and watched them run through warmups and stretches, he started to wonder why Arthur had even wanted him here. </p><p>He knew nothing about swords or any weaponry, and it seemed so much extra work to have such specific forms and sequences to learn and practice, when he could incapacitate a man with just the lazy wave of a hand.</p><p>A short while later when the true training began, he started to have an inkling of what Arthur wanted to show him. The men treated Arthur with respect, and the way he spoke to them as he led them showed the same. He seemed to be in his element here, and the knights could sense it as well. </p><p>Arthur with a sword in hand was more impressive then he’d ever imagined. </p><p>He had never seen proper swordwork, had never known the intricate dance of it. And with all those other knights as a foil, he quickly saw that Arthur was magnificent. The grace and power he wielded with such confident ease was captivating, his handsome face alight with concentration, and it was nearly impossible for Merlin to look away.</p><p>That being said, the longer he watched the session the more he saw how the other knights were quite a sight on their own. Where some of them lacked grace or precision, they made up for with strength or power. Merlin had never had prior opportunity to realize how much he appreciated the sight of strong biceps or the flex and pull of shoulder muscles under a tunic. </p><p>He was feeling rather flushed, and he felt as if he shouldn’t be watching this any longer if his mind continued in such directions. Arthur would give him such a disappointed look if he knew how his mouth went dry when Gwaine cast off his sweaty shirt and continued swinging his sword around bare chested. Each movement sent his chiseled stomach muscles rippling, and with his long hair flying about his face- well Merlin could admit the man was attractive. He just hadn’t known he could even care about such things.</p><p>Then Gwaine had glanced over at him and <i>winked</i> and Merlin had nearly choked on his own spit, mortified that his lingering eyes had been so obvious. He blushed helplessly as Gwaine continued to posture and show off, and Merlin really should leave before this got any worse. Which was of course when Arthur seemed to catch on. </p><p>He had been sparring with Percival, which had easily captured all of Merlin’s attention until Gwaine had started shamelessly stripping. Merlin tried not to look at any of them, but Arthur was gripping forearms with Percival, giving him an approving nod, before turning to stride purposefully over to Gwaine with flint in his eyes. </p><p>Gwaine looked between the determinedly approaching Arthur and back over to a red-faced Merlin, before he laughed amiably, twirling his sword flashily and sinking the point of it into the soft ground.</p><p>“Oh, I see how it is now, Princess.” He smirked. “So, our charming sorcerer is no longer available then?” </p><p>“Take up your sword, Sir Gwaine.” Arthur practically growled. “Such posturing and inattention will not favor you in the midst of battle. War is upon us. I find it difficult not to disparage your claim to knighthood. You are not only this kingdom’s humble protector, but a model the people will look to. I expect my knights to prove themselves worthy of such an honor, to be focused and above all, to aspire to self-discipline and integrity.” </p><p>Gwaine was clearly letting the lecture flow around his artfully swaying locks like so much wind, and slanted a look Merlin’s way to waggle his eyebrows.</p><p>“He does have a way with words, I’ll give you that, golden-eyes.”</p><p>Arthur’s blunted sword was poking his sweat glistening chest the next moment. “On guard.” Was all the warning Arthur gave before he was a blur of motion. </p><p>Gwaine scrambled to lift his own sword and block his fierce yet precise attack. </p><p>Merlin couldn’t tell if Arthur was just being jealous or if he was truly angry about Gwaine’s appallingly blasé attitude. He was beginning to understand there was much more to being a knight than just prowess with a sword. </p><p>Either way, a riled Arthur was formidable with his punishing downswings and quick-as-lightning jabs. Merlin’s stomach was currently full of butterflies. He shouldn’t be enjoying this little display, but the more he saw of this side of him, the more he realized how fit he was to lead these knights, how suited he was to be a king. </p><p>He couldn’t believe he, of all people, was the one Arthur turned to each night. The one who Arthur looked at with besotted eyes and lavished with affection. </p><p>And then came the whisper of doubt. </p><p>If they had met under different circumstances, would he ever have been able to catch Arthur’s eye? He was hardly strong enough to even lift a sword, let alone swing one, and he’d harmed Camelot more than any other person alive.</p><p>He knew he was malnourished, practically all bones, and looked as sick on the outside as he was on the inside. He was weak in both body and spirit, and he couldn’t understand how someone as powerful and confident as Arthur would even look twice at him.</p><p>As things were, all the what ifs hardly mattered. Merlin wouldn’t be here for much longer, and he selfishly wanted to enjoy this, the feeling of being seen and loved. Of having Arthur beat a knight into the ground because he looked at him lasciviously. </p><p>No matter how unworthy he was, Merlin wanted to have any little bit of Arthur he could. He wanted to leave Arthur with nothing but the best of himself he could muster. He had such little time left, but he would prove himself as best he could. He wanted to say farewell to him with no regrets. </p><p>It wasn’t long before Gwaine lost his footing and crashed to the ground, and the casually smug expression was now fully wiped from his face. He looked up at Arthur with dark eyes, as if seeing him in a new light, and then he was lowering his gaze respectfully. </p><p>Arthur was only slightly out of breath. “If you wish to remain a knight of Camelot, I expect you to find some respect for the position as well as some self-discipline. Both on and off duty.”</p><p>“Forgive me, Sire. I will not disappoint you again.”  </p><p>Arthur nodded at him curtly, before offing him a hand. Once he pulled him to his feet, he clapped him on the shoulder and said in all seriousness, “Merlin is off limits. You best take care of your lecherous eyes unless you’d like to lose them.”</p><p>He cleared his throat and turned away to oversee the other men, and Gwaine turned to Merlin with raised eyebrows and a slow bashful smile.</p><p>“Didn’t know what I was getting myself into, did I?”</p><p>Merlin shrugged awkwardly, trying to keep his eyes on Gwaine’s face. “I know the feeling.” He said shyly, not quite sure what to make of this man’s behavior. </p><p>He acted as if Merlin were just another man, someone he could flex his muscles at and try to share a joke with. He wondered if it were possible to find some sort of friendship with a knight who’d been his enemy until only recently. Stranger things had happened. And he did rather like the man. He was kind and loyal under all the rest of it. All of these men were too good for him.</p><p>He gave a start as someone sitting down beside him broke the flow of his once again morose thoughts. It was Lancelot.</p><p>He gave Merlin a small smile, turning his attention to the knights on the field as he clasped his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.</p><p>“I think I owe you my life.” He said quietly. Merlin stared at his handsome profile, perplexed. Lancelot lifted his chin but didn’t look at him as he explained. </p><p>“I am not from Camelot. I was still but a youth when my parents passed, and there was nothing left for me in that little fishing village.” He cleared his throat. “This was many years ago, back when I only had dreams of becoming a knight, and I thought I’d seek my fortune. Camelot was not far. But, on my way here, I was accosted by a ferocious beast. I had nothing to fight it. It had the body of a lion, the head of an eagle. I wouldn’t believe it myself had it not cut me down. My insides were…on the outside. I was dying.” </p><p>Merlin couldn’t take his eyes off him, knowing this fantastic story couldn’t possibly be connected to him. “But as I lay there in the forest, I heard a child talking nearby. He was chanting words I couldn’t understand. Then the ground was crawling with gold light, and where it passed over me, my wounds healed. I was covered with blood, but not a mark remained on my body. And all about me was a carpet of flowers the like of which I’ve never seen since.” He turned his big dark eyes to Merlin. “I saw you. You picked one of the flowers and put it behind your ear, and I thought you were a forest nymph. Your eyes were blue, then, but I still recognize you.”    </p><p>Merlin was shocked. How could he not remember saving the life of a man? How could he have done something so enormous and then just went on his way picking flowers? His father always did reprimand him for leaving his head in the clouds, but this was something he should never have forgotten. </p><p>Lancelot’s eyes searched his face. He reached over and ruffled Merlin’s hair affectionately. “So. Thank you.”</p><p>Merlin’s eyes stung. “I- I don’t remember.” He confessed, but Lancelot just smiled at him. </p><p>“Your magic is good, Merlin. You are good. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. I want you to know my sword is as much yours as it is Prince Arthur’s. I owe you a life debt, and I would be honored to fight for you.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t know what to do with your pledge.” Merlin stammered. “I have lost the magic of my childhood. I am only what my father has made me.”</p><p>Lancelot’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “That’s not what I see. While I haven’t known either of you long, I am confident it’s not what Arthur sees either.” He smiled at him. “I am your man however you may need me, Merlin. Please, don’t hesitate to ask.”</p><p>Then he stood and tugged his clothing into place, walking back out into the practice field as if he hadn’t just shaken Merlin’s world into something unrecognizable. </p><p>He felt lost again, and searched for a pair of blue eyes that would ground him. Arthur was already on his way over to him, his brows drawn in concern.</p><p>Merlin stood to meet him. “Can we go now?” He asked anxiously, and Arthur reached for his hand without hesitation. </p><p>He didn’t seem to care who saw, and Merlin was too upset to heed the eyes that may follow them.</p><p>Neither of them spoke until Arthur led him into an alcove with a window overlooking the central courtyard which was busy with townsfolk and knights, but here in this little corner of the castle it was quiet.</p><p>Arthur dropped his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “Out with it. I can tell when some foolish ideas are running through that idiot head of yours.” His eyes were concerned even as his posture and tone were like a wall that Merlin was effectively trapped behind.</p><p>“It’s nothing.” He avoided Arthur’s gaze, leaning his head back on the wall to look up at the dusty cobwebs wreathing the tapestry above them.</p><p>“I would still hear it, anyway.” Of course, he wouldn’t bypass a chance to be stubborn.</p><p>Merlin sighed, clenching his jaw. “I just- I don’t understand how someone like you could ever truly want someone like me. I wonder if our circumstances forced us together, and that once things settle, you’ll come to your senses and realize I’m not- I’ve never been good enough for you.” There. He’d said it. </p><p>The tense line of Arthur’s shoulders seemed to relax at the confession. “You are one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. Among other things.” He said quietly. “If you truly think so highly of me, then trust me when I say I wouldn’t settle for anyone less than one I found worthy. You are more than worthy to me. I’ll tell you as many times as I need to, to get it through your thick skull.” </p><p>He reached out and rapped his knuckles lightly against Merlin’s head, and Merlin didn’t have the heart to even mock scowl or play along. He felt miserable and a little like he’d cry the moment he let himself believe in Arthur’s words.  </p><p>“I don’t know how to feel worthy.” He said. </p><p>Arthur crowded into his space, wrapping those strong arms around him roughly. He smelled of sweat and fresh air and Merlin leaned his forehead against his shoulder. His amulet hummed in the small space between their bodies, and he felt himself relaxing already. He sighed again.</p><p>“You’re an idiot.” Arthur whispered into his ear fondly. His hands were curled around his waist, but he lifted one to slap him gently on the arse. </p><p>“Prat.” Merlin breathed into the hollow of his neck, and then the hand was back, this time grabbing him firmly to drag them flush against each other. Then hot lips were claiming his and Merlin couldn’t think of anything but the taste of him, the velvet feel of a wet tongue and soft lips.</p><p>His back met the wall, and Arthur pinned him with his whole body. He felt grounded and safe, the reality of Arthur’s ardor sweeping away his musings like so much dust.</p><p>Arthur kissed him with the same intensity as he’d just used on the sparring field, and Merlin melted under those hands, gasping with each rub of their bodies together. </p><p>Arthur pulled away to look at him, hair mussed and lips kiss swollen. The sight along with the fierce light in his eyes made Merlin’s knees go weak. </p><p>“You are becoming everything to me, Merlin. I won’t hide it. I long for when we will stand, side by side, and look over everything we have accomplished together.”</p><p>He was going to make this so much harder for Merlin, crashing violently against his resolve to do what he must do. Merlin couldn’t speak. He leaned forward to kiss him again, his heart racing as he longed to say, <i>yes, me too</i>. He wanted so badly to take what Arthur offered. He wanted a future with him. And he couldn’t have it.   </p><p>Arthur just kissed him slowly, hands tangling in his hair, and Merlin tried to show him his own devotion with his hands coming up to cradle his face. Arthur shivered at the cold touch and Merlin’s eyes stung. Arthur slotted a knee between his, pressing in and <i>up</i> and Merlin made a strangled noise against his mouth, pulse thundering as he was effectively caged in Arthur’s embrace. </p><p>He hadn’t known Arthur would be one for clandestine meetings in secluded corners, but he found it thrilling, more than slightly terrified that anyone could walk by and catch them at it like a couple of teenagers.</p><p>The clearing of a throat somewhere behind Arthur had his fears realized, and they quickly scrambled apart. When Arthur turned to see who interrupted them, his body purposefully shielded Merlin from view.</p><p>“My Lady Morgana.” He greeted with an awkward sort of cough.</p><p>Merlin peered around him to see Morgana’s deeply satisfied expression. He didn’t think he’d ever experienced such mortification before, and the way her eyes raked unabashedly over them was hardly proper. Not that snogging passionately in the middle of the corridor was proper, but-</p><p>“I have been looking for you lovebirds everywhere.” She groused, but she still looked much too pleased to have found them enacting the ultimate cliché of said lovebirds hidden away in an alcove. Arthur cleared his throat again. Morgana beckoned them without preamble. “Come along, we have much to be doing.”</p><p>She led them down into the quiet darkness of the library, and Merlin felt the lingering embarrassment flee him when she pressed a hidden latch and let them into a stuffy room filled to the ceiling with books of magic. </p><p>The room wasn’t empty either, Gaius was there as well as another elderly figure who was introduced as Geoffrey of Monmouth, the keeper of records and histories, and between them was a large stack of tomes they seemed to be collecting.</p><p>Morgana ushered the two of them into the room before moving to peruse the far wall of shelves with no further explanation. Gaius put them to work right away with instructions to look for any titles or books to do with artifacts, the charming of objects, or bindings.  </p><p>They were looking for a way to free Merlin. He couldn’t move for the longest moment, watching these people who hardly knew him spending their effort and time for his sake.</p><p>“Come now, Merlin.” Gaius urged gently, “You out of all of us will be a sight quicker at making out the likely books.” </p><p>Merlin looked at Arthur who nodded at him with a grim smile before moving determinedly to start squinting at the spines of the books. Merlin followed him dumbly, eyes roving the sheer vastness of the collection with a small bit of wonder. What he wouldn’t give for the freedom to just sit here and read, and <i>learn</i> with no ulterior purpose or deadline. There were hundreds of years of magical knowledge hidden in this one room, and he could feel the faint pressure of magic filling the stuffy air.</p><p>They had quite the stack of possibilities by the time Geoffrey supposed they ought to start looking through them properly. Gaius decided they should move the collection up to his quarters, and Merlin tried not to peek at any more pages while he walked after he tripped on the stairs and lost his armful the first flight up from the library.</p><p>Arthur walked back into the secret room after his first trip with Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival in tow. The knights made short work of the task and Gaius watched the men with shrewd eyes as they lingered in his workroom, but didn’t kick them out as he supposed the extra sets of eyes would be a great help.</p><p>The rest of the afternoon passed in the rustled turning of pages, soft conversation on possible spells or methods, and the feeling of calm comradery. Merlin hadn’t felt such contentment in a long time. He was set with a large stack of books written in the language only Gaius, Morgana, and he could read. Lancelot sat beside him and helped narrow it down quickly as he searched the illegible tomes for any pictures that seemed related to imbuing objects with power or the like.</p><p>Arthur sat across the table from him, and somehow, every time Merlin glanced up at him, he was met with steady blue eyes or an encouraging smile. Arthur’s boot found his under the table and pressed against his ankle, offering both comfort and a little frisson of excitement to the long hours of dust and the quickly collecting pile of dead ends, one after the other. It was hard not to be disappointed even as he told himself to quit hoping. </p><p>They took super all together as Gwaine wincingly stretched his neck and cracked jokes about some of the unusual tidbits of magic he’d read. He asked if Morgana would be willing to perform the spell to cleanse his body of all its hair, and she nearly slapped him while Arthur laughed freely beside him. </p><p>Lancelot had to remind Gwaine of his task to become a properly chivalrous knight, and the man flopped across Percival’s lap with an exaggerated groan. Arthur’s shoulder brushed Merlin’s every time he shifted, and Merlin felt warm. With the magic of his mother protecting him, he felt almost normal, able to enjoy the company and the food, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.   </p><p>As the room grew dim Gaius finally released them to many appreciative groans from the knights. They agreed to come again the next day, and to attempt some of the more promising spells. Gaius asked Merlin to attend him in the morning, to help prepare some potions as well as apply more salve to his burns, but Arthur asked for the medicine with promises to personally see to the wounds.</p><p>It had been a busy and full day. A day that was so mundane yet wonderful in its simplicity. He hadn’t felt the shadow of his father laying over him as he lost himself in books, and soaked up the kind smiles and entertaining banter around him. Merlin hadn’t contributed much, but he felt like they included him, that they actually cared about freeing him. He hated to finally discover the joys of companions now when he had such little time left.</p><p>He was quick to push Arthur down onto the bed beneath him when they retired to their chamber. He hovered over him, feeling full to bursting with the gratitude and joy he’d experienced that day. Arthur’s eyes shone up at him, and his hands cradled his hips while fingers slipped under the edge of his tunic to brush skin. </p><p>Merlin kissed him as if he was suffocating and Arthur was his air. It felt like he was tipping over the edge of an abyss into something that would ruin him, but he didn’t want to give this up.</p><p>Merlin hadn’t thought lovemaking with Arthur could get even more wonderful than it had already been, but with Arthur’s weight pressing him deliciously into the mattress, his mouth a hot brand on his neck as he rocked into him, pushing and pulling him impossibly higher, it felt like magic of a different kind. One made of bodies fitting perfectly together and sharing pleasure that was beautifully theirs. </p><p>Merlin told him he loved him then. It was impossible to keep it in after baring himself and giving himself so completely. He felt powerful with the decision to give both his body and heart to Arthur on his own terms, felt as if he had reclaimed something he hadn’t known he had lost. </p><p>And yet his heart ached when Arthur brought his captive wrist to his lips and kissed the ragged scars that ringed it. </p><p>“I promise we will get this off.” He said into his skin, and Merlin tugged his hand away to reach for Arthur’s face instead. </p><p>He kissed away any other attempts Arthur made at conversation. </p><p>He didn’t want to think on it anymore. He knew they wouldn’t find an answer, and he’d already made his peace with it. He knew he would never feel or use his own magic again, and when he shyly told Arthur the spell to create constellations of stars upon the ceiling, his heart throbbed with a painful mix of pride and longing as Arthur filled the air with twinkling lights.</p><p>He would leave Arthur with his love. And he would leave him with the love of magic. </p><p>He pressed his wet eyes into the hot skin of Arthur’s shoulder as he wished upon every star above him that he could have more than just this. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>When Merlin walked into the infirmary the next morning, Gaius ushered him to sit at his table before he triumphantly thudded a heavy cracked tome before him. The look on his face made hope expand within his chest so quickly he felt dizzy. </p><p>Then the old man explained how he had found references to the working of blood magic into runes in the event of creating powerful artifacts, and Merlin’s heart sank like a stone. He should have known.</p><p>“There is a book on blood magic.” Merlin told him, holding up a hand to forestall the excited queries that were sure to follow. “And my father keeps it with him in his chambers. He would miss it if I take it. He would know what we are trying to do.”</p><p>Gaius appraised him with a slowly rising eyebrow. “Then we must find a way to keep His Highness otherwise occupied.” </p><p>In the end, they didn’t have a chance to even think about creating a plot to steal the book out of his father’s room. The door flew open and a man was hurriedly carried into the room by two knights. He was mortally wounded, groaning and gasping out his news while Gaius rushed to try and stem the blood that gushed freely from his side.  </p><p>The army of Alba had been spotted on the far horizon, they would be at their gates by the end of the day or perhaps early on the morrow, and the knights left to spread the news and sound the alarm. The castle was turned upside down as it fell into instant uproar. </p><p>Arthur’s message must have been intercepted or else failed to reach Prince Leon. Perhaps he was dead, or otherwise unable to stop the continued proceedings of war plans. Maybe he’d decided to continue forwards anyway in order to aid them, but none of the reasons mattered because they were here, and Merlin was still bound. </p><p>He would be forced to kill Arthur’s countrymen, and not a one of them would survive if his father drew on the power of the moon. Merlin knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.  </p><p>He dreaded the call he knew would soon come from his father, and Merlin stumbled as he blindly rushed from the room to find Arthur. </p><p>They had run out of time. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>********************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>woooooooooo~~ sooo ...the moon?? XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p>Arthur couldn’t find Morgana anywhere. </p><p>She was absent from her usual morning rounds, and while the distributions went ahead smoothly as per usual, he couldn’t help but feel that something was very wrong. No one had seen the princess that morning, and Arthur roamed the castle with quick purposeful steps.</p><p>Merlin had gone first thing to see Gaius to continue their research, and Arthur planned to join them with Morgana after they took care of the wards. </p><p>Merlin had been carefully instructing the two of them on the magic involved over the last few days, haltingly explaining to them how he’d cursed that golden field to live and then studied his father’s books on warding until he’d had them near memorized. That even then, he’d managed to warp it into something far more complicated and vast, and that he hadn’t had a chance to put the theories into practice a second time. </p><p>Without Merlin’s magic to help them, it was a full day before Morgana successfully conjured a thin shimmering ward to wrap around the three of them. </p><p>They had no choice but to attempt to cast the spell as best they could before the battle could come to them, and Merlin had suggested they place multiple smaller ones around the perimeter rather than one large one such as he’d done. Arthur had flushed with excitement when he’d found a spell during their study time yesterday that would allow two casters to combine their energy into one spell to strengthen it. He’d shown Morgana and they’d agreed to give it a go.</p><p>Morgana was to have met him at dawn to begin the painstaking process of protecting the city, and Arthur tucked the spellbook more tightly under his arm as he rushed down yet another corridor in search of the lady. With each empty hall and shake of yet another servant’s head, Arthur turned to head back to the physician’s quarters to see if she might not be there trying to help Merlin. He could curse himself for not thinking of that sooner. </p><p>Yet as he clattered down a flight of stairs, the hair on the back of his neck rose as the alarm bells suddenly tolled in a frenzy from the bell tower. His heart plummeted into his stomach and he whipped around the next corner at a mad dash, nearly colliding with somebody in his haste.</p><p>“Merlin!” He caught the man by the waist, his book falling to the floor unheeded as he could focus on nothing but distraught eyes. </p><p>And he knew it was bad even before Merlin gathered enough breath to speak.</p><p>“Alba’s army is nearly here. They still came. Arthur- what do we do?”</p><p>Why hadn’t they heeded his message? Did that mean Leon was dead? Arthur closed his eyes as he sucked in a slow deep breath. He had to stay calm. They had to take this one thing at a time, and he needed to gather his knights. He had to task them with trying to convince more men to their side, to refrain from killing. Would they be able to send a man to warn off the Alban forces secretly? Who would they trust if not himself? Maybe he should do that, first. </p><p>Yet if they wouldn’t surrender or withdraw without a battle, then they still needed to try and put up any wards they could, perhaps just around the main gate and other entrances to the lower town. While he had failed to deter Alba from their path towards death, he still needed to protect the innocents of Camelot from attack. He didn’t know this castle well enough yet to properly prepare for a siege, and he didn’t know what the sorcerer was planning.</p><p>The sorcerer would probably be able to dispel the wards if he wished, or else he could simply force Merlin’s magic through them to his targets. Why hadn’t he even considered such a thing? This was going to be a bloodbath. He hated not knowing, being torn between two opposing sides in a war, hated not being ready and having no power, and he didn’t want all these men to die for no reason-</p><p>Merlin’s cold hands cupped his face and, startled, Arthur opened his eyes to focus on him.</p><p>“Arthur, just breathe.” He kissed him quickly and gave him a tremulous smile, and Arthur’s breath gusted out of him along with the rising tension. “As you keep telling me, you don’t have to do this on your own. Did you set the wards?”</p><p>Arthur wished he had the answer Merlin hoped for, but, “I couldn’t find Morgana. Was she perhaps with you and Gaius?” He had expected Merlin’s headshake, but it still troubled him just the same. “I need to speak with the knights, and then we need to find her.” </p><p>Merlin nodded and fell into step beside him as he walked quickly towards the direction of the courtyard. With all the noise and panic, he suspected they could find at least one of the men from their group out trying to guide the people to the safety of the castle. “How far away is the army?”</p><p>Merlin was already out of breath as he tried to match Arthur’s pace, but Arthur couldn’t slow for him. “They should reach us by nightfall. Would they attack in the dark or wait for dawn?” </p><p>“I am not sure of anything at this point.” Arthur admitted. He didn’t even know if it was Leon who was leading them anymore. Maybe that was why they disregarded his message. </p><p>The sound of the bells was near deafening outside of the castle walls, and there were children shrieking between each jangled peal. Arthur headed to the knights closest and got everything a little more orderly as he delegated tasks and had them open the doors of the citadel for the women, elderly, and children. Even the knights he hadn’t taken aside in training responded well to his commands, and Arthur felt the knot in his chest loosen just the bit as he saw the people begin to move with purpose. He asked a man to find and send Gwaine, Lancelot, or Percival to the physician’s quarters to meet with him, and he felt much more calm as he watched him go at a jog.</p><p>He turned to find Merlin and halted in his movements. The other had forgotten his hood today in the early morning rush to see Gaius. He’d been getting used to going without it, but never failed to cover himself in public. Now he was frozen to his place by the great doors. He was trying to hide his face, to keep his eyes downcast even as the brilliance of them was still great enough to draw attention. The knights and people skirted around him fearfully, and Arthur’s heart ached. T</p><p>hey didn’t know who he was, they didn’t know how he would protect and save each and every one of them. </p><p>He marched up to Merlin and took his hand. Startled, those beautiful eyes met his and held as people streamed around them. Up above, the bells finally went silent and in the abrupt absence, the noise of the courtyard came as if through a blanket pressed against his ears.</p><p>“Merlin. If only you could show them what you can do for them.” Merlin shrugged. “What of the bracelet?” He urged and Merlin looked at him with sorry eyes.</p><p>“Gaius found the answer. My father used blood runes to make it.” Arthur’s numb hands tightened on Merlin’s as he thought of their sole experience with such runes. “It means he used his own blood to create this. Its power is bound to him.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Arthur asked. “Would his- his death render them useless, then?”</p><p>Merlin’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. The book on blood magic is one he keeps with him ever since he captured you.” </p><p>“Then we need to get it.” Arthur said determinedly. “We still have time. If we can just remove this today, the battle may not have to even occur.”</p><p>Merlin’s shoulders curved in at his words. “Arthur. You expect so much of me- I don’t know that I can-“</p><p>“Hush.” Arthur lifted his hands to shake him by the shoulders gently instead. “I will not leave your side. As king he should soon be appearing to guide and calm his people, to direct the knights and army. He won’t have a chance to be back in his chambers for some time yet. Let’s go.”</p><p>“We <i>don’t</i> have time-“ Merlin protested even as Arthur dragged him back into the castle. “He will call me any moment, and then he’ll take the power of the moon, Arthur! The army doesn’t even need to come any closer for me to destroy them.”</p><p>Arthur tightened his grip on him and continued on. They needed to spend their time in action, and he couldn’t let Merlin’s fear and doubt seep into him. When they rounded the corner to the corridor of the king’s chambers, he pulled Merlin to a stop and turned to look at him.</p><p>“You told me he wants us to come to him tonight. The Solstice. He must be preparing for it, and he won’t look for you until that time. We have to try all we can <i>now</i>.”</p><p>Merlin took a deep breath and nodded slowly, his eyes serious and trusting. “Okay. You’re right.”</p><p>They approached the door. There was not a guard in sight. Arthur placed a hand on the wood and centered himself. “Can you sense if he’s inside?” He whispered and Merlin leaned close beside him, his brow furrowing.</p><p>“I can’t be sure-”</p><p>A muffled cry of a woman sounded through the door, and they both started.</p><p>“That’s Morgana.” Merlin whispered in horror, and Arthur’s blood ran cold. </p><p>He drew his sword and squared his shoulders.</p><p>“What’s the spell to unlock things?” Merlin just stared at him with wide terrified eyes. “Merlin!” He hissed, and the other stuttered, <i>”Tospringe.</i>”.</p><p>Arthur repeated the word and pushed his hand against the door. It flew open to crash against the wall and Arthur charged in with his sword held high.</p><p>Morgana was seated in a chair by the fire, her beautiful hair was in tangled disarray about her face. The sleeve of her gown was cut away on one side, and her exposed arm was covered in bright blood. Tears tracked down her face as she turned to look at the door desperately. Balinor turned to look as well, and his expression was as calm and dismissive as always. </p><p>In his hands was a silver knife and a vial partially full of red blood. He was bleeding her just as he had done to Arthur. </p><p>He should have prevented this from happening. He was meant to protect her. </p><p>Arthur took three quick steps into the room and lifted his sword threateningly. “Release her at once!”</p><p>“Or you’ll do what?” The man sneered, eyeing the bared blade with contempt. “You are a fool to think you could touch me with that.”</p><p>And Arthur senselessly lost his head to a mere taunt, rushing at the man with anger like a green untested knight. He couldn’t help it, the chance to leap into action always turned his head, and he wanted to drive this sword straight through his heart so he wouldn’t be able to hurt those he cared about another moment-</p><p>The sorcerer confidently lifted a hand and murmured a spell to intercede his charge, golden eyes flashing just as Arthur’s did the same- throwing his magic shield out before him to catch the bolt of energy. It fizzled to nothing and Balinor took a startled step back. It was his opening, and as Arthur lunged forward desperately, he saw that he had miscalculated, he was too far away- </p><p>And Balinor had enough time to reach over and seize Morgana’s throat with the hand adorned with his magic ring. </p><p>This time his spell punched through Arthur’s shield easily, and Morgana’s agonized scream cut through the room as Arthur crashed painfully into the wall. </p><p>Another swipe of magic and his sword was flying to imbed itself in the wardrobe. Another spell and Arthur was thrown bodily up against the wall, his head cracking against it so hard he saw stars. He remained suspended there as the sorcerer lifted his hand to cast again. </p><p>Blearily he saw a form step in front of him protectively, but Balinor didn’t hesitate. The next bolt of magic was jagged and blinding blue-white like lightning, and when it struck Merlin in the chest he crumpled to the ground with a horrible sound. His whole body was shaking and juddering grotesquely, and Arthur could hardly see through the black creeping his vision. </p><p>He couldn’t think through the haze and the panic, couldn’t even pull himself away from the wall to reach for Merlin. He let out a frustrated scream as he struggled helplessly. Merlin was convulsing just a few feet away from him, blood bubbling up into his mouth, and Morgana’s shrieks were shrilly echoing in his ears.</p><p>Balinor released Morgana with a curt, “Be quiet, girl.” As she fell silent, he stepped away from her. </p><p>All at once the spells holding Arthur and Merlin dissipated and Arthur crashed to the ground painfully. He crawled to Merlin whose body was still wracked with faint tremors. His golden eyes were terrifyingly vacant. He reached for him, smoothing shaking hands along his arms and down his chest, he wiped the blood from his lips and curved his hands about his cheeks. </p><p>Merlin didn’t react to him, didn’t seem to even see him. He bit his lip against the hot press of tears, and couldn’t help the way he flinched when the sorcerer suddenly loomed over them. Arthur looked up at him with hate in his eyes, thinking if he could just infuse his magic with this feeling that he could incinerate him where he stood.</p><p>Balinor flicked him away from Merlin with a flash of gold that nudged him roughly in the chest. </p><p>He used the toe of his boot to tap Merlin’s cheek. Arthur seethed. </p><p>Merlin’s head lolled, and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was even aware of the man standing above him. “Now. I was in the middle of my work before you so rudely interrupted.” He said. “I only need the blood from one royal. For all your failures, I can still find it in my heart to be magnanimous and allow you to choose which one.“ </p><p>Merlin couldn’t speak, his face was slack and his eyes roamed the ceiling in a daze. </p><p>Arthur spoke for him. “Take me. You should not have touched the princess.”</p><p>Balinor glanced at him dispassionately. “Just for that I think I shall use her instead.” </p><p>Merlin stirred suddenly, breath catching with small huffs as he struggled to speak through teeth that clacked together. “Not- Morgana. Please.”</p><p>Balinor looked down at his son with contempt. “You would keep them, yet you are powerless to protect what you claim as yours. No matter. I shall have my prize tonight either way.”</p><p>Arthur knew now that he was talking about the moon. </p><p>Whatever spell he was preparing here would help ensure his plans came to fruition, and he couldn’t let this happen. However, if he was unable to stop it, he could at least keep him from harming Morgana any further. He was still woozy from the strike to his head, and his body ached, but he forced himself to his feet. Lifting his chin to meet that dark gaze, he strode over to the other chair by the fireplace and sat down. He pulled back the sleeve of his tunic and offered his arm.</p><p>Balinor watched him with dark amusement, but he didn’t refuse his offer. He bound him to the chair with magic before he cut Arthur carelessly and bled him for long, slow minutes. The dizziness got worse, and he failed to keep his back from slumping against the chair. He tried to give Morgana a reassuring look, but she was breathing quietly in her chair with her long hair obscuring her face. </p><p>He tried to see if Merlin was rousing, if he was recovering, but he had only managed to push himself to hands and knees. He looked weak and disoriented. When they locked eyes and Merlin was able to clear his head enough to <i>see</i> him, the expression that crossed his face broke his heart.</p><p>Balinor brushed a finger over the cut and it slowly knit together into a barely crusted over scab. At least he wouldn’t leave him to bleed out, but Arthur supposed that meant he still planned to use him yet. The man moved away at last to his worktable, and it was only then that Arthur saw what was upon one end of it.</p><p>A pile of black feathers lay in a pitiful heap. Branwen. </p><p>Her body was twisted and bloody as if the man had taken her into his hands and <i>pulled</i>. Arthur’s note lay unrolled and open beside it, and he couldn’t breathe for the guilt and sting of failure that rushed him like a physical blow. He quickly looked away.</p><p>The room fell into a quiet lull, the three of them unable or unwilling to risk doing anything in their current states while Balinor busied himself with his work. The hiss and crackle of ingredients over a flame were only too familiar to Arthur by now, and he resolutely kept his eyes away, instead watching his dear Merlin who listed to one side. Something was horribly wrong with him. </p><p>Arthur had only known that the touch of lightning would kill a man, and he had no idea how much damage this less powerful jolt had done to him. It had been meant for him, but Merlin had taken it instead. He longed to hold the self-sacrificing idiot until he stopped looking like he would collapse again.</p><p>What seemed hours later, the sorcerer made a small noise of satisfaction, and then walked over to where his son huddled half-aware on the floor. Arthur tensed as he gripped a handful of his black hair and tilted his head back. </p><p>The blood he’d used had been Arthur’s. If this were to be another curse using blood runes, at least Morgana would be spared the horror of feeling it. Even so, Arthur couldn't help the way his body tensed in anticipation, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.</p><p>But it seemed the man had made a potion of it this time, and as he lifted the vial to Merlin’s lips, Merlin suddenly recoiled. He jerked against the firm hold in his hair, his eyes finding focus at last as his hands came up to try and free himself. His eyes were locked on the small vial as if it were poison, but Arthur supposed it must be reeking with dark magic. </p><p>Balinor didn’t relent, hardly having to even struggle to keep Merlin from scrambling away before he was dragging him towards the wall where he pinned his knee to Merlin’s throat and pushed. Merlin choked, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as his hands scrabbled at his father’s leg, and Arthur bit his cheek so hard it bled. </p><p>He strained against the magic that held him in the chair. He hadn’t learned how to use his magic for something like breaking free or throwing people against walls, and the power of it uselessly filled his chest to bursting. </p><p>The potion was forced on Merlin again, and he sputtered and spit between pained sobs as if it were acid being poured into his mouth. </p><p>Balinor growled in annoyance, “Drink it. My patience wears thin, and I may decide it time for you to replace the heart you took. While I assume such a lady must surely be a virgin, there are plenty of ways to check. I won’t even need magic for that.” </p><p>Merlin looked up at his father in anguish before his eyes closed and he gave in without another sound.</p><p>Once he was sure the liquid had gone down his throat, the sorcerer released him to gag and cough on the floor. He surveyed his son with displeasure. </p><p>“I see that allowing you the freedom roam about has given you foolish ideas once more. There will be no more of that. You will come to the North tower at sundown. I will cut the throat of one of them if you try to go against me before that time.” Merlin bowed his head. “Now, get out.”</p><p>Arthur glanced at Morgana who was watching the scene before them with a face made of marble. She looked hollowed out, but as he watched, her eyes flickered gold for the briefest heartbeat. Over on the floor Merlin twitched as whatever it was touched him. He raised his head and looked at the two of them with tears dripping down his face.  </p><p>“It’s okay, Merlin.” He said, and he didn’t care to hide anything from the sorcerer who already seemed to know their hearts. </p><p>He just wanted to make sure Merlin could see the love in his eyes. </p><p>Merlin just closed his eyes as he got to his feet slowly, painfully. His father had turned away back to his work, and Merlin stumbled to the door. He looked back at them again before he left, and Arthur wanted to kiss away the guilt and despair he saw there. </p><p>Morgana managed to straighten slightly in her chair and gave him a brave smile. “Go.” She whispered. </p><p>Then he was gone.</p><p>Morgana’s eyes flit to Arthur, and they held the same sorrow he felt. She looked ashen and drawn, dark smears were under her eyes and he’d never seen her lips without paint, but they were nearly white. She looked half dead, and he remembered only too well how ill he’d felt after his magic had first been taken from him. He had no idea what the sorcerer had put her through before they arrived.</p><p>As they looked at each other Morgana’s eyes slowly filled with tears and her sone façade cracked. He wanted to tell her it would be alright, that while they were overpowered, they were not bound like Merlin. They would have a chance to fight back, to combine their magic, and together they could do something. Anything. </p><p>But the look in Morgana’s eyes made his stomach clench uneasily. There was something she knew that he didn’t.</p><p>“What is it?” He asked quietly. </p><p>Balinor didn’t even look over at them from where he now sat reading through a book and murmuring quietly to himself.</p><p>Morgana’s face crumpled as she breathed quietly through the tears that now tracked her pale cheeks. “In the weeks before I wore my mother’s bracelet, I had the same nightmare every night.” She confessed, her words barely audible over the crackle and spit of the fire beside them. “I know now. I dreamed of what will happen this night.”</p><p>Arthur stared at her, unwilling to be shaken by the premonitions that were to come. Given her expression, nothing she had to say would empower them or act in their favor, and he didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t be shaken by doubt or fear that there was no hope to be had. But he couldn’t not know. He had to know. </p><p>“What did you dream?” He croaked, and more tears spilled from her eyes.</p><p>“There will be a magical storm. Lightning and rain like acid. Fire and wind. It will ravage the earth. The army will be defenseless against it.” She sniffed. “And then- then a brilliant white light. It will light up the heavens. Everything will be obscured by snow and ice. And Merln-” Arthur’s heart stilled in his chest. “Merlin will turn into a- a monster.” Her lips trembled. “He’s- It’s inhuman, and it will not stop until it destroys everything. Our magic-“ She sobbed, stumbling over her words. “It will drain it from us, and it will cleave the very earth in two. The castle will crumble, and the people will all die. <i>We</i> will die. There will be nothing left.” She didn’t seem able to continue, and Arthur tried to unhear the words.</p><p>“No.” He whispered fiercely. “I know how to release the moon from within his body. We will free him before it comes to that. It was just a dream.” It had to just be a dream. That couldn’t be their ending after everything. </p><p>Morgana stared him in the eyes, her face hardening. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but she was deadly serious as she shook her head in defeat. “No, Arthur. If there is one thing you need to know about my visions, it’s that my dreams always, <i>always</i> come true.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin sat slumped against the door for over an hour. He couldn’t hear anything through the wood, but then again it was hard to be sure through the ringing pain in his head. </p><p>He couldn’t seem to quite shake off the aftereffects of his father’s torture spell, his muscles still twitching sporadically. His chest still felt tight and he spent long minutes simply focused on breathing. </p><p>And all the while there was that foul potion that bubbled and burned in his gut. He could feel it slowly take effect, creeping along his veins and leeching deeply into his magic. It made him too nauseous to even stand. He didn’t know what it would do to him, and he could hardly care at this point. His body was a battlefield, and he was already losing this war.</p><p>He had nowhere to go, nothing to direct him while Arthur and Morgana were trapped in the room behind him. He hadn’t seen any way to rescue them or turn the tide in their favor. It had happened just as he’d feared yet expected. He was powerless and weak in front of his father, and he failed to protect the people he loved. </p><p>He truly was nothing without his magic.</p><p>He wasted more time huddled in the same spot, groaning around the growing agony of the potion running through him and hating himself. By the time he finally roused enough to get to his feet, he felt as if he were drunk. He’d never experienced being drunk before, but the world blurred and tilted around him as he lurched awkwardly down the corridor, supporting himself on the wall. </p><p>He would go to Gaius. There had to be something he could do. Some way to help fix this. Merlin needed to come up with a plan of action, he couldn’t just walk meekly out to let his father break him open and free the moon. That at least, he was sure of. </p><p>He was only halfway to his destination when the sound of rushing steps clattered to a stop beside him.</p><p>“Alright there, Merlin?” It was Gwaine and Lancelot. </p><p>Merlin sagged in relief at the sight of them. </p><p>“Help me t’ Gai's.” He said, surprised at the way his words slurred off his rubbery tongue.</p><p>“What’s happened to you?” Lancelot murmured as he pulled Merlin’s arm over his shoulders. Gwaine fit along his other side and they nearly swept him off his feet as they hurried him down the hall.</p><p>“It’s m’ father.” He tried to explain. “Got ‘rthur ‘n ‘Gana.” </p><p>They dragged him along even faster. Colors swirled and Merlin couldn’t make out any of the faces that blurred past them. </p><p>He was sat down and the next moment something that reeked awfully passed beneath his nose. He rocked away from it, a little clarity stabbing through his head and he blinked to see the concerned faces of Gaius and the knights.</p><p>“Merlin.” Gaius said gently. “What did he do to you?”</p><p>“Blood magic.” He found his voice to be a little stronger as well. “He made a potion- I don’ know what’s doing.” He groaned as the feel of it eating away at him, at his magic, became clearer as well. “Gai’s?” He called plaintively.</p><p>“I’m here.” He said, still stooped in front of him.</p><p>“Do you know? What’s ‘nside me?” Gaius shook his head, heavy white brows furrowing as he peered into his eyes and ran his fingers along the soft spot under his jaw. “It’s the moon, Gai’s.” He said. “He’s g’na release it tonight. Will take me over. I have to- to kill him. No. Kill me.” He swayed into a warm body close beside him, and looked up into dark concerned eyes.</p><p>“The moon.” Gaius whispered in horror. “It is not possible.”</p><p>“Mm-mm.” Merlin shook his head. Very possible. “I’ve runes to keep it in. ‘Rthur can erase them though-“</p><p>“He’s not making any sense.” Lancelot said worriedly. “Merlin said the King has taken Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana hostage.”</p><p>“And we’ve had word that the army of Alba is fast approaching.” Gwaine added. “They will be upon our doorstep come sundown.” </p><p>“The state of affairs is very grave indeed.” Gaius pronounced. He gave Merlin another whiff of the pungent smelling stuff before he turned to rummage through his potions and medicines. “Merlin, it is imperative that you do not let him succeed in this endeavor. Such a being of raw magic should never have been contained, let alone within a human- how you have withstood such a thing- oh.” He cut himself off. The eyes that fell on him were soft with understanding. “He must have thought Emrys strong enough to bear it. I suppose he was right.”   </p><p>Merlin supposed he was right, too. </p><p>“I know what I must do.” He said, feeling a little steadier as his head stopped spinning. The potion was frothing like acid deep in his core. Now that he was less under its thrall, he could feel for certain that it was ripping apart his magic bit by bit. He futilely tried to keep his magic away from the potion, but it was an impossible task.</p><p>The magic of his mother’s amulet kept the power of the moon at bay, but the potion didn’t try to reach for it at all. It was only after him. It was eroding away his magic and killing him. His life and magic were one and the same, Gaius had explained it to him, and he knew he wouldn’t survive losing it in this manner. </p><p>His father would have his body be but a host, an empty husk for the moon to inhabit, and he couldn’t stop the bile that rose in his throat at the realization of what he’d let his father give to him. He moaned as Lancelot pat him on the back through another heave. </p><p>Everything felt so pointless now. He wanted it to be dusk so he could go and get it over with. The hours that lingered in between were long and formidable. There was nothing he could do for anyone like this.</p><p>“Lancelot?” He rasped. “You have to get everyone out. All of them.” He looked at him, desperate for him to understand. “I’m losing the battle against it, and I fear what it will do in its attempt at vengeance. Even my father won’t be able to control it as he anticipates.” </p><p>Gaius nodded alongside him in agreement, handing him something he drank down without question. It was a trickle of cool relief down into his stomach. His insides felt as if they were going numb.</p><p>“We can take them through the siege tunnels.” Gwaine was saying, already standing. “There are vast mining caves not far from where they let out.” </p><p>Gaius urged them to hurry, and with a last squeeze to Merlin’s shoulder, Lancelot stood. Gwaine suddenly turned back before he walked through the door, pulling his sword in its scabbard from his belt and presenting it to Merlin.</p><p>“Make sure Arthur gets this.” His eyes were full of determination and trust. Merlin nodded.</p><p>“Merlin.” Gaius drew his attention away from the blade clutched in his hands. He regretted not saying anything more to the knights in farewell, but they were already gone. “I can give you one more dose of this numbing potion; it will slow the effects of anything already in your system. After that you will have to bear it on your own until it runs its course. As I told you before, your magic is like blood to you. It keeps you alive just as your heart does the same. It will be a long time before any potion manages to rid you of it. You have time.”</p><p>He really didn’t, but he kept the words back. Merlin sighed. </p><p>“What can we do, Gaius? Do you know of a way to weaken my father?”</p><p>Gaius sat down heavily beside him, considering. “I had the opportunity to read more on magic yesterday than ever I have in my long life. There was one text on various bindings.” Merlin looked up hopefully. “Not like your bracelet. It told of runes that could be invoked to form a cage of sorts, imprisoning any sorcerer who stepped within its boundary. We would need to mark the ground with chalk as well as prepare the necessary herbs for burning. It would be easy enough to lay ahead, and we only need activate it once Balinor were to cross inside.” He reached for the book, and thumbed through the pages until he found the description of the spell. “Morgana should be more than able to handle the casting if we’re able to get it to her. She would have to place her hand on this sigil here as she releases the magic.”</p><p>“Will it bind his magic as well?” Merlin was feeling more optimistic about the coming night than he could have ever hoped, eyes roving over the page and quickly taking in the details. </p><p>“It would be confined within the circle with him, yes.” Gaius confirmed, and Merlin looked up at him with a wildly hopeful smile. </p><p>“This would work. It would give me a chance to get close and-“ He broke off. </p><p>Gaius needn’t know the details of how Merlin planned to murder his own father. He didn’t want to wipe that grandfatherly look off of his face when he only had mere hours left in which to enjoy the fond concern.</p><p>“You will do what you must. You are strong, Merlin, not because you are Emrys, but because of your ability to love even after suffering such hardship. Only a good man would not be corrupted by the sheer magnitude of the magic you alone possess. I do not know if it has yet tempted you, but I believe you would still do the right thing. Hunith would have been proud of you. She loved you so dearly.”</p><p>Merlin’s eyes stung with tears, and he leaned gratefully into the hand that clasped his shoulder. It meant so much to hear these words. He couldn’t say anything except “Thank you”, and then stood with book in hand, tucking the little nugget of praise away in his heart.</p><p>“He expects me on the North Tower at sundown.” He said. “You have all of these ingredients?”</p><p>“Fetch me my satchel, and we shall go there immediately.”</p><p>As Merlin followed Gaius’s directions and took various ingredients from the shelves, his eyes fell upon a small dark bottle with a warning skull etched into the side. Poison. Well, it would certainly be easier to go through with than the knife he’d planned on. He tucked it into his pocket and then slung the satchel over his shoulder to leave the room.</p><p>They drew the magic circle from the book in chalk that Gaius had the foresight to sprinkle with charcoal to dim its brightness. He hadn’t thought the addition would hinder its potency, and it gave Merlin hope that his father wouldn’t soon notice the markings on the ground until he’d already crossed within it. He was nervous that Arthur or Morgana may also be forced inside as well, but they could deal with it as long as his father was prevented from casting out to destroy the army.</p><p>Merlin knew that he would have to enter it as well, and while further binds on his own magic wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if his father couldn’t use it either, he didn’t know if he’d be able to steal his father’s magic if the moon were suppressed as well. Gaius hadn’t known the answer either, and Merlin knew these were details they could not plan for. </p><p>This was all he had to work with, and he thought if such a simple circle were enough to ensnare the moon then there would have been no need for Emrys and blood runes in the first place. He had to believe the moon would be strong enough to get what it wanted.</p><p>Once they were finished and Gaius tore the page with the spell out of it to hand it to Merlin, they looked out over the wall towards the east. The black smudge and cloud of dust that was the approaching army was visible and undulating, close enough now to catch the movement of horse and man.   </p><p>The sun was already making its decent from its highest position, and far down below them soldiers and knights were quickly preparing their weapons on the outer ramparts. Torches were already lit as men checked their arrows or bolts and strung bows. Beyond that throughout the upper and lower city, townsfolk were still emerging from their homes, carrying belongings or provisions with them as they hurried to the castle for shelter. Merlin could see knights urging them to make haste, and knew they would soon follow the trail of the others down through the castle and out the siege tunnels. The portcullis was still raised, yet, but the front gates in the parapets surrounding the lower city were being barricaded and men were starting to gather and ready behind it in the case of a breach.</p><p>As long as the common people were safe, in the end he didn’t think any of these extra defenses would be needed. Either his father succeeded in withdrawing the moon and decimated the oncoming army without any loss to Camelot, or Merlin won and stopped the battle before it could start. Camelot had little to worry over because he doubted Alba would never get close enough to launch the attack.</p><p>Gaius instructed him to take the potion again in a few hours and left him to start preparing the sickroom for the wounded. </p><p>Merlin lingered, watching the preparations below as his father’s potion slowly ate through Gaius’s cure and started to strangle his magic once more. He let the wind tousle his hair and the sun warm his skin. The sunshine was glorious, and he’d hardly been able to appreciate its return. Looking up at it now he thought again how he’d first thought Arthur’s magic to be a sun, and he smiled when he thought that Arthur was even brighter.</p><p>Folding the page holding the only spell that may give them a chance, he tucked it into the sleeve of his tunic. He made his way over to slide down to sit against the wall beside the opening of the stairs. Gwaine’s sword was tucked into the base of the wall beside him. His best chance would be to slip the note to Morgana as they passed him, then he would have to keep his father’s attention away from her so she could see what he needed her to do. </p><p>There were so many gaps in the plan, so many ways it could go wrong, but Merlin was sure of one thing. The moon would have no qualms about killing his father. </p><p>Now there was nothing to do but wait.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The light slanting through the open window was taking on the honey golden hue of sunset. Arthur had watched it creep across the flagstone floor as restless energy filled his whole body. He couldn’t even shift to relieve the ache in his back, the magic still holding him fast. </p><p>He had wanted to ask Morgana if she knew a spell to overturn such bindings, but Balinor had taken to pacing the room as he muttered spells under his breath, and his path took him past their spot time and again. </p><p>Thankfully he was ignoring them, having gotten all he wanted from them to make the blood potion, but Arthur thought he may welcome a little verbal sparring at this point as long as it didn’t end in torture. He wanted to disparage the man for calling himself a King and then closing himself away in his chambers while an army marched on his city. He left his people and knights without direction or support. He didn’t so much as send a single message or order. </p><p>Arthur seethed with how irresponsible and dishonorable this man was. It didn’t matter if he showed up at the last minute to single handedly save them all with magic, magic that he stole from his own son no less, it showed how truly little he cared for the people who bowed to him. It showed how little he cared to actually run his kingdom and rule like a genuine king instead of a tyrant.</p><p>He barely managed to keep his angry tirade behind his lips, and tried to channel the anger into energy he would use to fight later. He felt full to the brim, ready to snap the moment he saw his chance.</p><p>Morgana had drifted into an exhausted sleep beside him. He looked to her every time she twitched and murmured fitfully, wanting to reassure her when she woke to find herself still bound in this chamber, and every time he saw the way her eyes glowed gold under closed eyelids. He wondered what she was Seeing. The line between her brows indicated it was nothing good.</p><p>He thought of the vision she had shared. Of Merlin losing himself to the moon and destroying everything. He wouldn’t believe it. </p><p>He hoped Merlin would remember their backup plan, Arthur’s back up plan, and taken his chance to run. To go as far and fast as he could and just steal away the very thing that Balinor planned to use to obliterate an army and to conquer the world. </p><p>If Merlin had fled, he could keep the moon from his father. With the help of his mother’s amulet he could prevent it from manifesting, and go find someone with knowledge enough to help him. Even as Arthur would surely die in the backlash, at least maybe the world could be saved. Merlin should know the lives of a few were nothing compared to the many who would be caught in this battle. </p><p>And yet, he knew the idiot would still come for them. He hated how he loved him for his stupid bravery, his loyalty even when all odds were against them. He worried over what that potion was doing to him.</p><p>When Balinor finally turned from observing the sunset out the window and came towards them, he expected him to drug them in some fashion, or to at least bind their hands. He didn’t bother to do anything of the sort, exuding confidence as he released them and commanded them to walk ahead of him to the tower. Arthur knew only too well overconfidence would leave a man wide open to a patient opponent, and he would wait for it gladly.</p><p>Arthur slipped one arm around Morgana’s waist to help her rise, feeling as if he were taking liberties with her person, but she leaned against him gratefully. They shuffled awkwardly as they made their way through the empty castle, Morgana guiding him to where they were meant to go. </p><p>He could feel cool air spilling down from the last twisting staircase they began to ascend. This must be the tower atop which this would all end. </p><p>Morgana had tensed against him as they passed a narrow window and a beam of orange sunset crossed their path. She slowed their progress and stared down at it with undisguised fear on her face, and Arthur could only assume she had Seen this small sign and what was to come after it. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to see the reality of your worst nightmare unfolding before you. He tugged her closer against his side.</p><p>“Keep going.” Balinor said, the threat of him at their back enough to push Morgana through her reluctance to ascend. </p><p>When they stepped out at last to the top of the tower, the sky high above already fading to navy, and Morgana was suddenly tugged out of his hold. He whirled to try and catch her back, only to see a head of dark hair and familiar long arms pulling her into an embrace. </p><p>Merlin was whispering quickly in her ear, pulling back slightly to catch her hands in his and cupping them together. Then the sorcerer was knocking Arthur out of the way, sharp eyes looking over the siblings before he reached out to tear them apart. </p><p>Carelessly, he shoved Morgana to one side and while she stumbled, she quickly righted herself, her eyes flitting about the dark stones of the tower floor before she threw herself down a few feet away. She had one hand tucked into her breast and the other she pressed flat to the stone, curling in on herself and bowing her head over it before she was still.</p><p>Balinor glanced after her odd fall to the floor in distraction, but when Merlin tugged away from the grip he had on his shoulder, he focused all his attention on his son. Arthur looked to Morgana’s still form, and then back at Merlin, hating to see how pale and sick he looked. </p><p>Merlin moved purposefully away from the stairwell, and as Arthur’s concerned eyes swept over him he noticed something bulky laying on the floor against the wall behind him. He would recognize that shape anywhere. Merlin was trying to keep his father from noticing it. </p><p>Merlin staggered slightly as he moved to stand in the middle of the space, and Balinor pivoted slowly as he watched him go. </p><p>“I can tell when you’re up to something, Merlin.” His father chided almost indulgently. </p><p>Merlin squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. The strength he tried to show was offset by the unhealthy pallor of his face and the way his whole body was trembling visibly. He was not well. Arthur longed to go stand beside him, but he slowly took a sliding step closer to where the sword lay. Merlin had brought it for him, and he needed to get close enough to be ready for a chance to take it up.</p><p>Balinor cocked his head as he surveyed his son, the sun dipping below the horizon at last and the dimness of twilight blanketing everything. It was obvious Merlin wanted his father to come to him, and Arthur knew the man could see it, too.</p><p>Arthur had slid another two steps towards his goal before Balinor glanced at him with golden eyes while uttering a now familiar spell. He was frozen to his spot and he groaned in frustration. </p><p>“You are a coward.” He bit out despite himself, but the sorcerer ignored him as he turned the spell upon Morgana as well. She still remained in her knelt position, and Arthur couldn’t see her face for the way her long hair hung to hide it.</p><p>Merlin was looking at him when he turned back, and his big golden eyes were so bright against the darkening sky. Sweat beaded his brow and his breaths had grown more labored in the few short minutes that had passed.</p><p>Balinor gazed at his son appraisingly as he made his way over to the wall, twisting his iron ring about his finger. Then he turned to look out across the land and huffed out a satisfied sound. </p><p>“Your dear countrymen seem quite eager to meet their death, Prince Arthur.” He commented over his shoulder, and Arthur turned to look as well. </p><p>His heart sank as he saw they had arrived and were mobilizing into neatly ordered ranks. The cavalry ranged along the front line while the impressive numbers filling the infantry swelled and trailed behind in a great swath of small dark bodies. His heart ached to see his army there. Massive and strong, a formidable force that had kept their kingdom safe and protected for years. He couldn’t stop himself from straining to catch sight of the Alban royal standard, as if he could possibly pick out the form of his brother from such a distance in near dark.</p><p>“While we have some time yet before the power of the Solstice truly begins to manifest, I should like to indulge in a warmup.” He looked over his shoulder at Merlin who was swaying dangerously in his chosen place. “I will not play your little game. Come here, Merlin.”</p><p>Merlin shook his head as if trying to clear it, one hand pressed to his stomach as if it pained him. He clenched his jaw as he set determined eyes on his father. “No.”</p><p>Balinor scoffed. All it took was a curl of his finger and a quick spell and Merlin was stumbling over to him. </p><p>“It’s quite too late to start another of your temper tantrums.” He tone was patronizing, and he frowned in displeasure as Merlin stood beside him. Merlin stared back at him, looking as if he may vomit all over his boots, and the sorcerer passed a quick golden eyed look over him. “You’re more stubborn than I care for. The potion should have progressed much further by now.” </p><p>Merlin’s lips twisted but he didn’t seem able to speak, his eyes were a little wild and he kept glancing back at Arthur and Morgana, especially Morgana, even when he should be focusing on the threat before him.</p><p>Balinor then gripped Merlin’s bared forearm with his ringed hand, and Merlin jerked as the man started to chant in a carrying voice. He lifted his free hand to the sky, and black angry clouds were swiftly gathering to send them into further darkness. He continued his spell heedless of the way Merlin curled over the wall with a groan of pain. Arthur’s heart stuttered as frost crusted along the stones where Merlin rested. He wasn’t just taking Merlin’s magic, he was already trying to get to the moon. </p><p>The wind whipped into life, roaring about the tower as purple-white lightning flashed deep within the clouds above. The air shivered and boomed, singing with the thrum of magic and electricity, the sheer power of it almost overwhelming here so close and exposed to the building storm. It didn’t help to know that it wouldn’t touch him but be directed to the ground below.</p><p>“Merlin!” Arthur shouted over the gale, trying to reach him in any way he could. Merlin had to fight back. He had to do it <i>now</i>! Arthur strained against the spell holding him.</p><p>The air swirled around them, charged and prickling against skin, and then Merlin sank to his knees as Balinor called down the lightning. </p><p>In mere minutes the earth was charred into black pits of ash while hot yellow fire churned greedily across both land and the falling bodies of men and beast. So many, many men, even as so many more scattered and regrouped, and Arthur’s screams were whipped away to join the cacophony. They were vainly attempting to charge the castle, the flashes of lightning and spreading trails of fire lighting up the battlefield to expose ghastly scenes.</p><p>Yet there was no enemy for them to fight down there. The army was vast, but more vast was the ocean of magic Balinor tore from Merlin, and Arthur screamed his name again as he watched the slow destruction with mounting fury. Small bodies flew through the air, while others were caught writhing within fiery prisons. This could not be happening. </p><p>“Merlin, please! Stop him!”</p><p>As if he heard his plea, Merlin suddenly tore himself away from his father, clutching the wall with hands that slipped over black ice. The second the connection between them broke, the lightning ceased to fall, but the damage was already done. The storm still raged above them fiercely as Balinor whirled on his son. </p><p>Merlin scrambled to his feet and backed away from him, and this time Balinor took a step to follow. He reached for him and Merlin evaded his hand, stumbling but moving back towards the spot he’d stood before. Arthur saw he had a plan though he couldn’t see for what. </p><p>Then Balinor lunged forward to seize him by the throat, eyes blazing gold, and a blinding white tornado of snow and ice swirled larger than life against the darkness of the sky before leaping over the wall and pelting down upon the defenseless army. Thick blades of ice struck like cross bolts or spears, while the deadly cold of it froze living men into statues which burst into cascades of broken pieces. </p><p>Merlin was screaming, Morgana was weeping, and Arthur’s magic was building so hot and angry against him, he felt he may pass out from the agonizing pressure of it. </p><p>Balinor scrabbled to keep his grip on Merlin, and as Merlin struggled to free himself his father’s hands caught on the chain about his neck. </p><p>All of a sudden, Balinor’s eyes melted to brown and his hands tugged on the amulet, dragging Merlin close by the neck with his hold on it. He stared down at the jewel with wild eyes, his face quickly melting into something like anguish. Merlin grabbed his father’s wrists to try and pull those hands away, but Balinor’s fierce grip was too strong for him to overpower.</p><p>“Where did you get this?” He said in a strangled voice, barely audible over the storm. He tried again to rip it from his neck and Merlin’s face contorted in anger. </p><p>“It’s not for you!” Merlin screamed. “And neither is <i>my magic</i>!” </p><p>Using the full weight of his body and the hold on his father’s arms, Merlin threw himself backwards and dragged his unprepared father with him. They crashed to the floor and Merlin called out, “Morgana, now!”</p><p>Morgana’s voice rose in a wail of rapid magic syllables, her eyes lifting from the floor in a flare of gold and as she spoke the stone beneath her hand lit impossibly blue. As the spell rose around them, the blue light rushed out along perfectly straight lines and curved around into a large circle, illuminating an intricate design of runes with Merlin and his father in the center.</p><p>Then Morgana fell silent and the blue energy buzzed and thrummed as if alive, rising off the floor in a wall of light that caged the two in. Merlin’s head fell back weakly against the ground and he rolled his face to look through the glow and up at Arthur. His eyes were alight with relief while a smile curled his lips, and Arthur suddenly lost his balance and stumbled a few steps to one side.</p><p>Balinor’s magic had lost its hold on him. He didn’t waste a moment to bend down and unsheathe that sword. </p><p>He lifted it triumphantly, feeling like he was finally in the game at <i>last</i>, ready to throw himself at the sorcerer and hack him to pieces. Morgana scrambled up from her spot and hurried to shelter behind him, her hand brushed along his cheek as she passed. “I didn’t See this.” She said breathily, and Arthur’s heart leapt in his chest. </p><p>Arthur looked again at this new magic with wonder. Merlin had prepared this, must have given Morgana the spell when he embraced her, and whatever it did, it had worked.</p><p>Balinor climbed off of Merlin and rose quickly to his feet. He studied the circle of light with sharp eyes, spinning in a slow circle before he turned to look down at where Merlin was pushing himself up. Merlin stood shakily, tensing and taking a small step back under the vitriol in his glare. Balinor regarded him for a long moment, eyes flickering back down to the chaos of the battlefield, and then his face cleared. And he <i>laughed</i>. The hairs on Arthur’s nape stood on end.</p><p>“You may have trapped me here,” He conceded, “but you still have so much to learn.” </p><p>Merlin was already retreating at the sudden change in demeanor, and Arthur understood fully when his back hit the wall of magic and he couldn’t pass through it. He had locked himself in there with Balinor. And the man still somehow had the upper hand.</p><p>Arthur rushed forward as Merlin cried out to him, “Don’t cross the line!”, and he halted a step away from the pulsing blue light. His hand gripped his sword tightly as he hesitated to heed Merlin’s warning because Balinor was advancing on him the next moment, and Merlin had no way to escape or protect himself.</p><p>The scuffle that followed was horribly short. Balinor struck him about the head viciously, trying to get the necklace, and Merlin’s feeble attempts to block him failed as it only took one sharp tug to snap the chain and pull it away from him.</p><p>The night <i>exploded</i>. </p><p>Arthur was flung backwards into the wall as the blue light of the circle flared hot white. Fire crawled along the base of the sigil as the chalk burned to dust, and then it was gone. </p><p>Merlin was a glowing white heap on the floor, so brilliant it was hard to even look at, and ice radiated from him like ripples in water. Arthur dragged himself to his feet in panic, staggering towards them even as Balinor crawled forward as well. Arthur saw he would reach him first, and he broke into a run.</p><p>“Yes.” Balinor crooned in a rapturous voice, reaching out his hand, ready to seize Merlin again and with him, the moon. “Let it take you over. Let me have it.”</p><p>Arthur’s strength returned with each step, and then he was stepping between them. His foot knocked Balinor back, his sword a blur as he cleanly chopped through bone and severed his hand from his wrist. As Balinor collapsed with an anguished scream, Arthur turned fierce eyes on the disembodied hand, that ugly ring still on it. With all the pent up fury within him fueling his magic, his eyes blazed gold as he screamed “<i>Forbaernan!</i>” at it. It burst into flames, the ring melting to a mangled lump of black amid a pile of ash and bone.</p><p>“You will not use him anymore!” Arthur yelled, twirling, ready to swipe the edge of his sword across the man’s neck as he clutched his bleeding arm. </p><p>The eyes that Balinor lifted at his words were full of hate, flickering gold as he threw fire at him. Arthur met it with his shield, and Balinor hissed in fury as he lurched to his feet to scream out spells, one after another. Arthur fell back defensively, concentrating on keeping his magic shield strong, even as he just needed one moment to step in and swing this blade to <i>end</i> him, but he lost his footing, slipped on ice-</p><p>“Merlin!” He called desperately, “Merlin, you need to take his magic! Merlin!”</p><p>Behind him Merlin’s agonized cries turned into a scream as he began to shake, the sky groaned as the air pressure shifted dramatically and Arthur dropped his sword to clap hands over his ears in agony. Blood spurt from his nose and he crashed to the floor blinded as everything inside him <i>throbbed</i>.</p><p>The ground was beginning to shake, the faint screams of terror and dying men swirled up to the sky. He felt as if his awareness was being crushed into nothing but a sharp pinpoint of pain, before a shrieking groan of something immense echoed in their ears. A yawning chasm cleaved the earth into two, and Arthur gasped, tears streaming from his eyes. </p><p>Morgana had been right about everything. And Merlin-</p><p>Merlin was moving, slowly crawling past him to where his father lay in a similar state as Arthur, his blood streaking the floor in slippery red. And this time, it was Merlin who reached out and seized him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin heard Arthur’s voice from far away. He tried to hold on to it and listen. Arthur needed him. </p><p>He struggled to see through the haze of frigid pain, the clash of broken magic ringing in his ears and crushing his head. Through the whirl of it all he saw his father bleeding on the ground, vulnerable at last, and he focused on that.</p><p>He crawled to his father, gritting his teeth as the moon shrieked and battered him nearly senseless, incensed and so alive. He felt as if its touch would leave physical bruises across his skin, his whole body thrummed with impossible energy.  </p><p>He could hardly stand it, could hardly stay <i>himself</i>, and knew he would lose his mind if it didn’t <i>stop</i>.</p><p>“Merlin!”</p><p>He shuddered against the unrelenting onslaught. Arthur. He had to do this for Arthur. </p><p>Merlin touched his father’s face with intent. The spark of his magic was no less bright for all that it had been twisted and abused. It was strong, so strong, and it washed over him deliciously just as Freya’s and Arthur’s had. </p><p>In the seconds before the moon leapt forward to <i>pull</i> at the magic, Merlin experienced a moment of clarity. </p><p>“I’m no longer yours.” He ground out, “and I will set it free.”</p><p>He let the words of the moon come as they willed, sharp and beautiful like studs of diamond stars in the night sky. These words formed a melody he didn’t know, but felt like he’d heard a million times before. </p><p>Falling into the sound of them, plumes of soft white, feathery snow rose from the ground in clouds to swirl around them as he fell towards his father’s wide opened eyes– staring up at him transfixed in horror, and his fingers were now literally frozen upon the man’s face. </p><p>Growing in volume, his voice rang forth in a fearsome rumble, a double echo edging his usual tone. He felt nearly drunk on pure power, felt his body to be a sculpture of ice ready to burst into crystalline pieces if he didn’t set the magic free. And the channel was open invitingly in the man before him, now illuminated colorlessly white as if bathed in beams of moonlight that streamed from Merlin’s luminous form.</p><p>And for once he could just let <i>go</i>. It was like plunging into euphoria, and Merlin gave in at last.</p><p>The next moment he dropped full force into his father’s consciousness, tearing through thin webs of thoughts and fleeing emotions until he could see what he was after: the vigorous glowing hum of his magic. The fire of it was a beautiful maelstrom that he craved with every fiber of his being.</p><p>And everything his father had ever done to him swelled within him to pure rage. Every time he hurt him, stole his magic for his own purpose, forced him to torture and kill innocent people. He hated him more than he ever hated anything before, even as his heart shattered as the anger crushed that lingering childish need to just be loved.</p><p>He would never forget the invasion of his father’s touch on his magic, on his mind, having stolen and intruded more thoroughly than any person should, let alone a father. He ravaged through his father’s weak mental defenses with a vengeance born of a deep hurt. </p><p>For all his knowledge, for all his years of scheming, his father didn’t know how to fight back. Nor could he even move with the way the cold power from within him had so easily paralyzed him in place, the ice crawled down his body and fused him to the ground. </p><p>He lived and breathed that bottomless craving, tearing through the other more fiercely than he ever had before. His eyes slid closed as he ravaged and stole, deeper and deeper, no care or caution to hold him back as he could no longer feel any reason to do so. It was so freeing not to resist it, to just take and take, giving in to the decision to end this. He was caught in the flowing current of the moon's unmatchable magic, and he didn’t stop, not until his father crumpled into a quivering heap beneath him. </p><p>Now all that remained was a tremulous flame that desperately clung to life, diminished and <i>dying</i>, and with a stillness overcoming his heart Merlin curled gently around it. He paused, a suspended breath before forever, and then squeezed. His father slumped on his back and lay still; blank eyes stared up at the black sky. Merlin held on for a moment longer, feeling the empty space that once was his father. Then he let go of him and rocked back into himself.</p><p>He turned to look up at Arthur, kneeling beside him with compassion shining in his bright blue eyes. He was backlit with the glow of the fire still roaring below on the battlefield; gusts of snowflakes dancing in the wind circled him like frost sprites. </p><p>Arthur was safe. He was beautiful, and Merlin loved him more than anything. He wanted to reach for him, to fit them together, to exhale into his mouth and just be <i>done</i> at last. </p><p>He sucked in a breath as his eyes roamed Arthur's face greedily, letting himself look his fill even as he resisted the urge to touch him. The moon was swirling inside him, magic building and pushing as it expanded painfully, and he knew he didn't have much time.</p><p>He’d stolen his father’s magic and killed him. The battle was over. Now all that was left was to turn on himself, to drink the vial of poison he’d taken. He fished it out of his pocket, such a small little thing that fit snugly in his palm. Beside him Arthur choked out, “No, Merlin.”, reaching for it. </p><p>He pulled away with a sad smile. “You know I have to.” He said, his chest tightening painfully at the expression on Arthur's face. </p><p>He was shaking his head, trying to convince him there was another way, reaching for him even as Merlin leaned back. His body was still lit like a beacon, radiating with the magic of the moon, and he felt proud that this choice was one last thing he could do to protect him.</p><p>He had thought that this would be the end of it. He had thought he would have this short time to say goodbye to Arthur and Morgana, who hovered uncertainly behind them. Maybe Arthur could hold him as the poison brought his release at last, and this struggle would finally be over. He would be free.</p><p>But he had been wrong. He could weep for how wrong he was.</p><p>Between one breath and the next, his vision went white and he was unable to see that beloved face before him. Magic sucked him <i>in</i>, flinging him dizzily into its pure energy, and he was lost. He couldn’t control it as the moon, now filled up on such a magnitude of magic, finally tore its way into full awakening. </p><p>It crushed his human will beneath its awesome power and Merlin’s eyes blazed pure white as he knew no more. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>********************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*****</p><p>Gosh, that felt rushed. And I honestly didn't try to make this a cliffhanger on purpose.... :X SORRY!<br/>See you tomorrow with the final chapter :D</p><p>*****</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it's the end!! ㅠㅇ ㅠ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>********************</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Arthur crashed to the ground with bone shattering force, his body crushed by something so heavy he could hardly breathe. </p><p>Above him Merlin was possessed. His whole body was radiating an excruciatingly bright light, the full power of the fallen moon, and he couldn’t see Merlin through the glare. </p><p>They had failed.</p><p>Merlin- the <i>moon</i> moved to the wall of the tower, leaning far over the edge of it as it <i>roared</i>. </p><p>In answer to the call, the storm above them erupted into a blizzard that quickly rained down on the land. Ice and snow raced from Merlin’s form to encase the castle and blanket the ground for miles and miles. The harshness of deep winter enveloped the world in a matter of minutes, and Arthur shivered and struggled to even move.</p><p>Ice grew from the black crack that had opened in the ground and tore it further apart, the awful rumbling crack of it shaking the foundations of the castle. The chasm split across the battle field in one direction, and through the lower town in the other, walls and homes crumbling as they fell into its depths. The wind howled and screamed before hail started to pelt down with deadly force.</p><p>Arthur curled into himself protectively, his eyes popping open in surprise when none of the ice struck him. A wavering gold shield surrounded him like a bubble, and then he felt Morgana’s hand gripping his arm. She leaned down close to him, raising her voice so he could hear over the sound of the storm.</p><p>“We have to stop him!” Her hand moved across his body to grab his fallen sword and press it into his hand, and he gripped it reflexively. “Arthur.” She sobbed. “You have to.” </p><p>He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.</p><p>Arthur struggled to sit up, his free hand landing on something hard that gave him a shock of warm magic. It was the amulet. Arthur stared down at it before he wrapped it around his wrist and clenched the broken end of the chain in his fist.</p><p>He didn’t even hesitate to toss the sword aside, glaring back at her when Morgana screamed at him. Her long black hair whipped across their faces, her gold eyes burning into him while the brilliance of the moon lit the night like a sun. </p><p>They were safe for a moment within her magic as the blizzard raged and grew impossibly fast to obscure everything in endless blinding white. Yet the cold of it burned through his skin and sank into his bones like sharp knives, he could barely feel his hands save for where he clutched at the magic necklace.</p><p>“Arthur!” Morgana pleaded, scrabbling for the weapon and holding it out to him yet again. “I told you what will happen. You have to do this.” </p><p>“No!” Arthur screamed at her, bolting to his feet.</p><p>At his word, the moon turned away from where it was unleashing its fury on the world. Arthur turned to meet it bravely, aching to see Merlin’s body completely wreathed in ice. His hair was coifed into white peaks, and his skin was nearly translucent. </p><p>He looked inhuman. </p><p>He saw the moment that being scented his magic. White eyes locked on him. </p><p>Morgana stood beside him, raising the sword with a well-practiced arm and the moon’s pearly gaze flickered to her.   </p><p>“If you can’t do it. Then I will.” </p><p>She called for her magic and moved towards Merlin as the blade wreathed in hot yellow flames. The moon didn’t even react to her charge. It flicked a finger and the sword burst into miniscule particles of snowflakes. Morgana faltered and skidded on the slippery surface of the floor, falling heavily. </p><p>The moon looked at her blankly. Then it was reaching down, and Morgana scrambled back in terror. </p><p>Arthur moved without thought, flinging himself in front of her to block the attack. He crushed his own magic down in his chest, hoping it wouldn’t be able to reach it, hoping the amulet would still work even when the moon was fully manifested and in control.</p><p>Cold hands seized him by the throat and Arthur’s hands lifted to try and break their hold. His body tremored violently as the moon’s magic rushed over him in an icy wave, his skin flushing so cold it <i>burned</i> before he simply went numb all over the next moment. His heart thundered in his ears as he groaned with the effort of trying to remove the hands on his neck. </p><p>But his magic. His magic was still his. It couldn’t touch it.</p><p>The moon shook him roughly, then opened its mouth and screamed magic that gusted over him. It was like the sharp pricks of needles, like a vise crushing his ribs impossibly in his chest until he couldn’t breathe, but still his magic was safe. </p><p>“Merlin!” Arthur choked desperately, his vision was darkening at the edges, struggling for air even as the moon tore at his body with spells to try and get at his magic. </p><p>With the last of his strength, Arthur untwisted the amulet from his wrist and with a fleeting plea to the gods that this would work, he wrapped it around Merlin’s wrist and clasped both hands around it tightly.</p><p>The flood of magic abruptly cut off, and Merlin stumbled back from him with a strangled sound. Arthur followed him, refusing to let go of where he held the amulet in place, and stared in shock as all about them the storm had gone deathly still.</p><p>Snowflakes hung suspended as if the whole world held its breath, and in the dampened silence the sound of their panting was loud. </p><p>“Arthur-“ Merlin whispered, and Arthur’s head whipped back to look at him. </p><p>The eyes that met his were brilliantly blue. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It raged against its cage, ripping with its magic like claws against the places that burned with the rank of human magic. No matter how it pushed and tore, those bindings held firm, searing hot in the flesh of its prison. But still it was trapped.</p><p>Screaming in fury, it moved the body it was unable to tear apart, throwing its anger out into the world in retribution. </p><p>It crushed their homes and threw its magic to decimate everything as far as could be seen to the horizon. The insignificant little humans that had dared to keep it imprisoned, that dared to try and use its power for themselves. </p><p>They would feel its wrath. They would fear its awesome power.</p><p>It called the elements to its aid, called ice and wind to punish them all. To smite them where they walked and tear the very earth to pieces.  </p><p>It tore again at the marks keeping it bound to its host, turning as it sensed something behind it.</p><p>There was the blaze of earthly magic. Two brightly burning sources. </p><p>It was still too weak to escape. It needed more magic to be able to just melt the flesh off the bones of this body. There would be no runes left to hold it if there were no flesh.</p><p>It moved towards the magic, destroying the human weapon with a thought and latching onto the first one that came into its path. </p><p>It dug into the human fiercely, reaching for the golden magic it craved. Magic should not be confined within these weak forms. It would take it all and be free. It would crack this earth asunder and then reclaim its place in the heavens. </p><p>The magic would not come. </p><p>The human was keeping it from it, and it threw its own magic at the soft body, trying to tear it apart until the golden essence would seep from it like life for it to devour.</p><p>It screamed and burned, attacking in a rage, livid with the inability to take what it wanted, what it needed, and-</p><p>Merlin sucked in a gasp of frigid air, his heart thundering in his chest as he came back to himself suddenly. He was falling but strong hands had ahold of his forearms, keeping him upright. </p><p>The night was still and scattered with white snow, just suspended in the air, and before him was-</p><p>“Arthur-”</p><p>Arthur had been staring in amazement at the way the storm swirling about them was frozen in time, but turned to look at him when he heard his name. He looked at that dear face, his chest so tight it hurt, taking in every line and curve. </p><p>Merlin was still alive. And he was himself again. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see Arthur again.</p><p>He felt the bite of something metal digging into his arm where Arthur had ahold of him, and the next moment he recognized the fiercely protective wash of magic that enveloped him from the amulet. </p><p>He looked back up at Arthur with tears of relief in his eyes, but Arthur was still staring at him in shock. </p><p>“Merlin-” Arthur stuttered. His brows furrowed as his eyes filled with sudden tears, and one of his hands lifted to curve around Merlin’s cheek. </p><p>Merlin leaned into his warm touch, trying to smile, but he hurt all over. His back felt flayed open and raw, while inside it was as if shards of ice had shredded him mercilessly. He felt he should be bleeding out all over the ground.</p><p>“Merlin.” Arthur said again, his voice cracking on his name; his hand slid around to cradle the back of his head and tug him closer until their breath mingled. “Your eyes-“ His voice wobbled. “They’re blue?”</p><p>Merlin gazed back at him in shock, his hand clutching at Arthur’s arm where he still held the amulet wrapped tightly against him. What did that mean-? </p><p>He was in control now, had come back to himself, and with his mother’s magic protecting him, he could barely feel the presence of the moon at all. There was a dark, heavy pressure somewhere in his gut, and he knew it was still there, but the cold that had coated his insides and fought him for control for so long was <i>gone</i>.</p><p>Tears slipped from his own eyes at the realization, and he bit his lip as Arthur’s thumb came to brush them away.</p><p>It was as if in manifesting fully, the moon had detached from him at last, and sudden hope flared in his chest. </p><p>If he could just set it free-</p><p>Arthur was staring deeply into his eyes with a broken expression, emanating so much love and regret and Merlin couldn’t bear it. He pushed forward to kiss him desperately. </p><p>Arthur’s mouth opened soft and warm, he tasted like the salt of tears, and Merlin kissed him deeply, wanting to make it last forever. They pulled apart slightly, their foreheads touching, and Merlin opened his eyes to look at him again.</p><p>“Arthur.” He whispered. “Help me.”</p><p>Arthur frowned, shaking his head slightly, but Merlin just moved to grab both his hands, careful to keep the necklace secured there from slipping. He pressed closer to fit his body against Arthur’s strong frame, tugging Arthur’s hands to his waist and guiding them both under his tunic. </p><p>He bit back a cry of pain when they touched the mangled burns of the runes, and Arthur tried to pull his hands away. Firmly, Merlin held them in place and looked at him entreatingly.</p><p>“Set us free.” He begged. “Please.” </p><p>Arthur curled around him as if he could shelter him in the circle of his arms, palms gentle yet so painful on the burns. </p><p>Merlin tugged his own hands away and slipped his arms around Arthur’s neck, hugging him tightly as he buried his face in the warm skin below his ear. He breathed in Arthur’s scent, felt the rise and fall of their chests pressed together and the hot wetness of Arthur’s silent tears seeped onto his shoulder.</p><p>They stood for a moment, just holding each other. </p><p>Then Arthur squeezed him tighter as he began to sing the ballad about the moon. His voice was full of tears, breaking over every other word, and Merlin pressed his lips to skin in apology. </p><p>He felt the magic come to life in the soft words filling his ears, and where Arthur trailed his fingers along the runes it tingled with magic. It stung, tendrils of power digging through the ruined marks on his skin, but it was nothing compared to when the moon burned them as it tried to escape. </p><p>He breathed slow and deep and whispered, “I love you, Arthur. I always will.”</p><p>Arthur faltered, the magic wavering, and he turned to press his lips against Merlin’s ear as he forced himself to keep going. </p><p>Merlin shivered against him, the grief he felt more painful now than the lines of fire across his sides and back. It was impossible to keep the tears from spilling, and they dripped pearly white like liquid moonlight down his face to roll off Arthur’s shoulder and shatter on the floor. His lashes quickly crusted with frost, and each breath was cool fog against Arthur’s neck. </p><p>He felt cold again. So cold.</p><p>“Arthur.” He said brokenly, crying as he sagged in his hold, wanting to hold onto him forever, wanting to tell him again, to see him one last time- </p><p>Arthur’s hands were steady, his magic was so warm, his voice hushing as the runes at last melted to nothing. Merlin could feel the magic sink into him and then disperse. He sucked in a slow breath.</p><p>His vision blanked as the moon suddenly exploded into being. </p><p>Everything was blinding white, ripping out from his core in a bolt of energy like lightning. It physically lifted him into the air, tearing him from Arthur’s grasp and he hung suspended for one horrible moment.</p><p>Moonlight swirled around his whole body as its power gathered and grew, its immense magic coalesced into a sphere of brilliance that swelled and then shattered into silver dust as the light rocketed for the sky and Merlin plummeted to the floor.</p><p>The moon was a streak of white hurtling higher and higher, impossibly higher still, the magic it trailed behind it burning through the snow and clouds. The whole sky lit with a flash of light and a loud echoing boom vibrated the stones under them.</p><p>Merlin stared up blearily at the swirl of the storm dissipating like so much smoke, the sky clearing to show a cascade of stars twinkling in the expanse of velvet. </p><p>And there, radiantly glowing, hung a disk of pure white. It lit up the night like a sun, and everything was washed in silver and black. It was beautiful. And it was cold, just like Arthur had said.</p><p>Merlin blinked slowly as arms dragged him into Arthur’s lap, he was hunching over him, patting his face and brushing his fringe away from his brow. He couldn’t hear his voice calling his name, everything was muffled, but Arthur was still crying. Merlin couldn’t stand to see him cry. </p><p>He wanted to reach out and touch him. He wanted to say, ‘thank you.’ And ‘I love you.’, but he couldn’t move his lips. He could barely breathe. And it was so hard to keep his eyes open. </p><p>He was empty. So <i>empty</i>. </p><p>He was floating away, and it felt like true freedom at last. He slid into darkness.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Nothing had ever hurt him this deeply before. His heart was breaking in his chest, and Arthur couldn’t breathe through the sobs that wracked his body.</p><p>He had known this would happen. He had known Merlin wouldn’t survive this, but he had done it anyway. </p><p>He had set the moon free, and now Merlin lay broken in his arms. Dying. And he couldn’t breathe.</p><p>He cradled him close.</p><p>Through his tears he looked at those blue eyes he’d only just gotten to see. So clear and beautiful, now staring blankly up at the moon in the sky. The white light of it glittered like crystal in their glassy surface, and he looked as if he’d already died. </p><p>Arthur tapped his cheek gently, feeing the soft gust of warm breath across his hand. Merlin was barely breathing.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye he saw something opaquely white creeping towards him. He grimaced as he saw the chalky smoke that still clung to Merlin’s body, crawling over his skin like a disease. Arthur brushed at it frantically, calling Merlin’s name brokenly as the man in his arms lay so still against him.</p><p>He pressed his palm against his chest and desperately called on his magic.</p><p>He gasped wetly as he <i>felt</i> Merlin’s magic deep within his chest for the first time. It was a gentle little flicker, feeble and wavering, and Arthur curled over him in despair as he recognized the feeling of it. </p><p>It felt just like the tree. Just the same. </p><p>The magic was leaving him, and he was dying. Arthur still remembered the horror of that spark snuffing out under his own hands, and he bit his lips against the agonized sound trying to leave him.</p><p>He didn’t think he’d ever recover if he were to feel it when the life left Merlin forever.</p><p>He was terrified he would push it and lose him, just like he’d done to that tree, but he couldn’t not <i>try</i>. He would give him everything this time. He didn’t need any magic. He could live without it. But he couldn’t live without Merlin. </p><p>Placing his hand along the curve of Merlin’s neck where he could feel the faint pulse of his life against his palm, Arthur drew on his magic and pushed it out into him. </p><p>It flowed easily and sank into Merlin’s skin before it snuffed out ineffectively. Arthur grit his teeth.</p><p>“No, no, no. Damnit!” He tried again. </p><p>His magic skittered and rolled off Merlin uselessly, and this couldn’t be happening. </p><p>Suddenly Morgana was crowding up beside him, and he couldn’t even look at her, running his hand up to cup Merlin’s jaw. His eyes were closed. His chest barely lifted with life. He was losing him.</p><p>“Try again. Here.” Morgana was saying. He looked to where she was smearing the bracelet on Merlin’s wrist with something red. It sank into the runes engraved on the surface, and he realized with revulsion that it was Balinor’s blood. And then he realized what she was doing. </p><p>He clutched Merlin tighter, his magic leaping to crowd up into his throat.</p><p>Morgana bent over Merlin’s hand, gripping his arm with slippery red hands, and started murmuring in the language of magic. Her eyes glowed and nothing happened. She tried again as her voice grew louder, each word like a command, and this time when she pushed her magic out, the little bracelet cracked. With another flare of golden eyes, the metal glowed hot, and then it shattered.</p><p>Merlin’s body jerked, but otherwise he didn’t react, and Arthur didn’t hesitate to crush him in his arms, burying his face in the juncture of his shoulder and neck. He gathered the entirety of his magic and poured it into him with all his heart.</p><p>It lasted for endlessly long minutes. His magic flowed strong and purposeful, fueling that dying flame. He didn’t let it stop, he didn’t try to pull away, he let it all go until he could feel himself hollowing out horribly. </p><p>It ached somewhere deep and private, and he shook with the feeling of his insides being scraped out until he felt raw and vulnerable. His heart throbbed wildly in his ears, but still he pushed and gave until there was nothing left of him. </p><p>And with the last of his ability, Arthur looked at Merlin and <i>felt</i> it. Arthur’s magic expanded and blossomed within Merlin, the dying flame now blazing so wonderfully alive, and then the connection snapped and he was cold and empty, blinking down at the body in his arms.</p><p>He couldn’t feel his magic within him. He couldn’t feel magic anywhere around him in the world and it felt as if he’d lost a limb. He couldn’t feel Merlin’s magic either, but he could feel how Merlin breathed deep and easy, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat strong and beautiful against his ear. He cried again as he rested his head against Merlin’s chest to listen.</p><p>He was alive. He was free. And he was alive. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>It had been a week, and still Merlin would not wake.</p><p>While the great army of Alba had been brutally decimated, Camelot had not been without its fair share of casualties. Most of the town was destroyed, crushed to ruin beneath the fury of the moon. The many knights and soldiers who’d been out ready to battle other humans had been caught in a storm of magic instead. </p><p>The rift in the land ran from the forest and through part of the lower town, a gaping black chasm that flurries of snow swirled over as the wind curled down into its depths. The landscape was burned and scarred, crusted into great masses of ice and snowdrifts. The trees of the forest had been ripped up by the roots and knocked to the ground as the wave of magic had radiated from the castle. </p><p>Once he had made sure Merlin was safely tucked away in Gaius’s chambers, warm and <i>alive</i>, Arthur had been the first to run out into the wan light of a new day. </p><p>He had struggled through the deep snow, fighting his way out of the city and over the crushed wall of the lower ramparts. A single dark figure traversing the expanse of white, and he had shouted his brother’s name, called for knights of Alba to heed him, and had searched through the fallen and the living, brief grasping of hands and words passed with those who saw him. He hadn’t believed his eyes at first when he caught sight of a mop of red-gold curls.</p><p>Leon was alive. </p><p>He crushed him into a fierce embrace and Arthur might have cried yet again. Leon sagged against him in relief, telling him how frantic he had been, how horrified at the impossible magic that destroyed his men and warped the world. </p><p>His voice was soothing as always, his eyes so kind, and Arthur gave a start as the feeling of safety and love he’d always felt from his brother sank into that empty place inside him. </p><p>He laughed brokenly, cutting off Leon’s jumble of words. It seemed Leon had always used his magic as well. It was subconsciously woven into his words, his caring heart carrying it physically to those he protected. No wonder the people loved him so dearly. </p><p>And Arthur may have lost his magic, but it was wonderful to <i>know</i>, to feel it wash over him like it always had. He would never forget the power and beauty of it, the goodness. </p><p>He had so much to tell his brother.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>Arthur sat at Merlin’s bedside again that night. It had been a second full week, and he was beginning to despair that he hadn’t actually saved Merlin at all. That everything that was <i>Merlin</i> had left with that little flame, and the life that blazed in him now was just Arthur’s magic keeping his body from passing. </p><p>It was a horrible thought, and he bowed over the hand clasped between his own. Merlin’s hand was warm. It didn’t feel like it was even Merlin’s.</p><p>The door to the small storeroom off the chamber opened, and Gaius shuffled down the steps. He placed a wrinkled hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he passed to his shelves of ingredients and busied himself with making a potion.</p><p>Arthur sighed against Merlin’s skin, and slowly sat up to watch the physician work.</p><p>“Why won’t he wake?” He asked quietly, and Gaius paused in his task to look over at him. “What’s wrong with him?” </p><p>He had told Gaius all the details he could remember from the awakening to him giving Merlin his own magic, and Gaius had been researching, working his way slowly through dusty tomes, but he hadn’t yet given him any clue or answer.</p><p>Gaius returned to his mixture, hands steady and sure as he completed it and then brought it over to the cot. </p><p>“Help me.” He instructed, and Arthur slipped his hands under Merlin’s head to lift it enough for Gaius to expertly administer it.</p><p>Gaius sat beside him then, looking weary and old, and Arthur ran his hand through Merlin’s hair with his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.</p><p>“There is not much written about Emrys and his abilities, but you should know that the name itself means, ‘immortal’. I don’t believe it possible for his magic to cease to be, it is as magic in the very fabric of the world. With no limit and no end.” He turned steady blue eyes to Arthur. “As such, I doubt that you were the cause of this coma. If his magic had truly left him, he would be dead. You saved his life, Arthur. You did something incredible, and I do not yet understand the truth of this miracle.”</p><p>Arthur bowed his head, not wanting to hear such praises when the result of this miracle was nothing but a comatose husk of a man.</p><p>“Merlin’s magic had been brutalized and imprisoned for far too long. From the records of the moon’s disappearance and what I’ve gleaned, Balinor bound it within him when he was but a child. He has lived with that otherworldly presence inside him for nearly his whole life, and I am optimistic his body is just taking time to adjust to being free at last.”</p><p>Arthur would also love to believe that explanation, but how long would he have to sit beside an unmoving body? How long would it take? What if something had broken inside him when the moon left him, and he never woke again?</p><p>“Is there nothing I can do?” He asked. “Nothing Morgana could do with her magic?”</p><p>Gaius rose to his feet and came back to offer Arthur a heavy leather-bound book.</p><p>“I have been researching into the efficacy of rituals performed with or without the power of the moon. When it was returned to its rightful place, it was full, and at the height of potency on the night of the Solstice. Two days from now it will be at its weakest, the night of the dark moon, and it is then one could hope to work magic encouraging new beginnings and rebirth. I thought you knew that the Lady Morgana has been losing precious sleep spending nearly every night in the library?”</p><p>His bushy eyebrow was climbing up his forehead as he leveled Arthur with a disapproving sort of look. Arthur felt shamed by the news, he hadn’t known either of them were already trying to find a way to help Merlin. </p><p>He had been so busy dealing with matters of rebuilding and working through the quagmire of post-battle negotiations. </p><p>The snow had all melted within the first few days as the summer sun blazed down on the land. The people still rejoiced in the brilliance of its light, and Arthur was humbled to see their joy and gratitude for something he’d always taken for granted. </p><p>He was learning to see the world in a new light through their eyes. In their true freedom from the oppression of Balinor’s curses, the losses they had sustained were grieved then quickly set aside as they rallied to rebuild their lives. He was impressed by their tenacity and resilience, and he threw himself into aiding them the way he always had thrived in doing.</p><p>It wasn’t long before the people <i>knew</i> him. </p><p>The golden-haired knight who helped rebuild their city with his own two hands, the man who worked the field beside them and handed out rations from the royal stores. He helped care for livestock and carried household wares, built walls and shared a cup of water at the city well. They knew him as a man, and then they knew him as their soon to be king.</p><p>They had found Mordred’s body amidst the rubble of a fallen wall, and Arthur mourned for the loss of this man who’d once been a wide-eyed youth full of potential. He gave him a burial fit a knight of Alba, and he honored the memory of their friendship as he kept the truth of his treachery to himself. </p><p>Leon heard the full story, and after the first few days of chaos receded into something a little more organized, it was short work for them to root out any of the remaining knights of Arthur’s entourage. The few that were left of them were handed over to the Albans, and Arthur assumed their execution had been carried out with justice. </p><p>He had returned each night to Gaius’s chambers to check on Merlin. To sit with him until he slumped with exhaustion from his work of the day, and then he would squeeze himself into the small cot and curl around him sleepily. </p><p>He relearned Merlin’s scent, something warm like spiced mulled cider, something mysterious and alive like magic, and it reminded him of the wild smell of the forest after a heavy summer rain. </p><p>He pressed kisses to his face, his slack lips, and every time he reached for hands that were still so <i>warm</i> he had to kiss those, too. Then he would wrap his fingers around the band of scars on Merlin’s wrist and sleep deep and heavy until the noise of a castle stirring at dawn’s light roused him once more.</p><p>He had sat before the council with Leon at one side and Morgana on the other as they renegotiated the details of their peace treaty. While many of them had been shocked and indignant at the inclusion of the princess in the process, they were struck speechless at the proposal for them to be wed with no expectations for heirs or the duties of husband to wife. They would be as partners, as siblings who would share the burden of ruling the kingdom, and while it was unprecedented and not even Geoffrey knew how to even define it, Arthur held firm in his resolution to start out this new chapter with something different. Something better. </p><p>He would show these people the strength and power of a united monarchy. He would give them <i>magic</i> and he would devote every day of his remaining life to this kingdom.  </p><p>And he missed Merlin so fiercely it was like a knife embedded in his chest. </p><p>He missed his shy smiles and his gangly loping gait. He missed the way black curls flopped over his forehead and the slanting glare of those golden eyes. Gods, he wanted to see those eyes <i>blue</i> again, to learn the shade and depth of them. He missed those long fingers on his skin and soft lips meeting his own. He wanted to hold him and love him, and learn how it was to be with him free of fear, free of shackles and monsters both magical and human. To merely be himself. </p><p>He wanted to see Merlin learn to live again, to be beside him as he discovered life beyond the ugly walls of his previous home. He wanted to see Merlin’s magic, to watch his face light up with joy and peace for once as he felt it create something beautiful. He wanted to share his life with him, and he longed for him even as he held him in his arms.</p><p>He found Morgana in the library the next day. She was in the small room filled with magic tomes, a single torch lighting the neat lines of black words across crisp pages.</p><p>She looked up at him with a smile, scooting slightly in her seat to indicate he sit next to her. Wordlessly she tugged another book open on the small table and indicated a page that was swirled with intricate designs and colors. It looked to be some sort of ritual, circles and runes, and what looked to be a lake under a black sky. </p><p>The shapes reminded him of the lines of blue light making the circle that Merlin had used to trap his father’s magic. He studied it curiously, noting the words to be of the language of magic, and finally gave in as Morgana continued to peruse her book silently beside him.</p><p>“Will this wake him?” He asked.</p><p>She sighed. “I can’t be certain.” She set her other book down. “It is the most promising option that I have found, and as Gaius explained it, there is extra power in the working of a spell depending on the lay of the heavens.” </p><p>Arthur nodded, wishing he could be the one to preform it, to bring Merlin back. “How can I help?” He couldn’t resist the urge to be useful, to act.</p><p>“Seeing as your magic runs through Merlin’s veins along with his own, I believe you will need to be there in the center along with him.”</p><p>“You could feel my magic in him?” He smiled wistfully, and Morgana’s eyes softened.</p><p>“Yes. The way they flow together as one…It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever felt.” </p><p>Arthur felt comforted at that. He wished he could feel it, but as long as it kept Merlin alive, he could keep the magic for the both of them.</p><p>“It is quite fascinating, actually, the magic we will now be able to pursue.” Morgana was saying. “The power of the Solstices, of the full and new moon- none of them were possible without a moon in the sky to give weight to the energies of magic. Nor have I had the freedom or knowledge to even try such things. I am as much in the dark as you on this, but we owe it to Merlin to try anything that even promises a chance.”</p><p>“Tell me what it does.” Arthur commanded, and they spent the rest of the afternoon going over the meaning of the runes used, the ingredients, and the steps of the spell. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>As it turned out, they didn’t need to submerse Merlin in a lake in the middle of the night, a bath of water apparently was perfectly viable.</p><p>They set it up in the tower room that Arthur thought of as theirs, and it was with a tangle of both trepidation and blossoming hope that he lifted Merlin from the patient cot and carried him up to their chambers.  </p><p>The three knights Arthur was beginning to think of as friends, had volunteered to help prepare for the spell. He wasn’t sure how they had even known about it, but with the way they each stopped by to check on Merlin daily he wasn’t surprised. Leon was also there, and Arthur’s heart swelled as he walked into the warmth of the room, lit with fire and the smiles of the people he cared about most in the world.</p><p>They had placed the tub near to the fire to be able to ensure they could add more warm water as it cooled, and Arthur went to lay Merlin out on the bed so he could join Morgana and Gaius in preparing the herbs.</p><p>Gaius tossed powdered sandalwood into the fire and soon the calming scent filled the room. Arthur took a slow breath and helped Morgana sprinkle lavender, sage, and bay leaves into the gently steaming water. The scents mingled and plumed from it fragrantly, and over by the table Gwaine was his usual chatty self, telling the room of a conquest of his that had insisted they performed certain activities in a bath made more of rose petals than water, and how he’d slaved away gathering petals for his lady love before his every visit. </p><p>The chuckling and gentle teasing of the others soothed the atmosphere into a cozy glow, and Arthur nudged the knight with an elbow as he took the pestle from his hands to crush the sea salt with the ashes from the herbs that Gaius burned.</p><p>Arthur couldn’t remember all of the ingredients he and Morgana had measured and mixed under the physician’s meticulous eye. It was arranged colorfully across the table, and Arthur took the black salt and sprinkled it along the lines that Morgana had drawn circling the bath. Lancelot took the blue, and Leon the red. The circles and lines crossed and wove together in an intricate pattern. Soon they were all stepping carefully to try and not disturb any of it.</p><p>Gaius had answered Leon’s curious questions by explaining the properties of herbs to protect and purify, runes for magic, courage, and power, and the spell that would combine it all and encourage manifesting. To call Merlin back to himself.</p><p>Arthur tuned it out as he had thought of nothing else for the past two days, and went over to strip Merlin of his tunic. His breath caught at the sight of smooth unblemished skin. No dark runes or ugly burns. He was perfect, and Arthur didn’t care who saw the way he trailed fingers across his face. They all knew how he felt anyway. </p><p>He tugged off his own tunic before lifting Merlin into his arms. He reveled in the feel of warm skin on skin, and pressed him close as he made his way to the bath, his heart thudding in his ears with anticipation. With hope.</p><p>They were both barefoot, in nothing but trousers, and Percival helped steady him as he climbed into the fragrant water, sitting with Merlin slotted between his legs and resting back on his chest. It felt like bliss, the almost too hot temperature of the water, the fragrance of the herbs, and Merlin so heavy and firm against him, his head resting against his shoulder. He curled his arms around his bare torso protectively, resting his cheek against Merlin’s ear and despite his best efforts couldn’t keep from blushing as Gwaine gave them a lecherous look. Thankfully he kept his filthy mouth shut.</p><p>Gaius at last placed the purified crystals at the indicated points and stood back as Morgana finished drawing the runes with ash. She nodded in satisfaction, then turned determined green eyes on Arthur. She believed this would work, and Arthur trusted in her magic. He kept his eyes on her as she began to chant. </p><p>Smoke swirled dreamily from the fire as a soft breeze swept the room and ruffled their hair. The gold of Morgana’s eyes were twin stars and her voice rose confidently, thrumming with magic. The lines of salt ignited into brilliant colors, rising up towards the ceiling, and sitting in the center, Arthur could barely see the room through the curtain of wavering magic.</p><p>The water rippled and sloshed against the sides of the tub, tendrils of gold lifting from the surface to swirl into the gathering storm of magic above their heads. Arthur could feel it, strong and <i>alive</i>, and he felt safe as it cascaded down upon them, filling him with warmth right through his core. </p><p>He relaxed into it, pressing lips to Merlin’s cheek and begging with all his heart. </p><p>“Please, Merlin. Come back to me.”</p><p>And he did.</p><p>Merlin’s whole body shivered as the magic continued to embrace them. His head tilted away before turning to press more firmly into Arthur’s face. His back arched slightly and then his hands were pulling through the water to curl around Arthur’s forearm resting across his abdomen.</p><p>The magic fell away, the sounds in the room blurring to background noise, as he focused everything on the way Merlin stirred to wakefulness in his arms. Arthur kissed his bare shoulder before leaning around to try and see his face.</p><p>Sooty lashes flickered as a furrow formed between his brows, and then his eyes were blinking open. He gazed up at the ceiling blearily and Arthur felt like he was glowing, the happiness filled him up to bursting. </p><p>His eyes stung, and he smiled through it, one hand sliding up to tilt Merlin’s jaw to face him until their eyes met.</p><p>“Hello, blue-eyes.” He whispered.</p><p>Merlin’s big blue eyes were still a little vacant as he frowned in consternation. His head lolled on Arthur’s upper arm, he looked dizzy. Arthur grinned at him, charmed by the sweet way Merlin trustingly nuzzled into his neck in his disorientation. And then, “Have you been taking tips from Gwaine?” His voice was husky with disuse.</p><p>Arthur laughed as he faintly heard Gwaine sputtering off to one side. “His eyes are <i>blue</i>?”</p><p>Merlin lifted his head slowly, awareness lending him strength as he swept his gaze around the room. He cleared his throat awkwardly as his attention returned to the tub they were soaking in together, and he whispered under his breath, “What is going on?” </p><p>“You are all dismissed.” Arthur said loudly, and pointedly ignored Gwaine and Morgana’s snickering comments. </p><p>They slowly trickled from the room after coming over to welcome Merlin back, offering smiles and words of happiness at seeing him well and alive. Merlin was blushing as he rested against Arthur throughout the well wishes, but his smile was blinding. He didn’t hesitate to grip Morgana’s hand and kiss it after she reached to caress his cheek, and with a wink at Arthur she was gone.</p><p>The room was warm and quiet save for the crackling of the fire. Merlin melted into him and his hands curled around Arthur’s arm tightly.</p><p>“Arthur?” His voice wavered uncertainly. “Am I dreaming?”</p><p>“You’re free, Merlin.” He answered. “We won, and set the moon free. It’s all over.”</p><p>Merlin was frowning, the grip he had on him becoming nearly painful. “I thought- I died.” He said, and Arthur kissed his jaw. </p><p>“I saved you.” And it was as simple as that.</p><p>Merlin lurched out of his hold to turn around and look at him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub and splashing across the floor. His lower lip was trembling, the blue of his eyes still shocking and so beautiful and they reached for each other at the same time.</p><p>Merlin’s mouth was hot and wet, the caress of tongue sent shivers down his spine, and he shoved hands into his hair to drag him close again. Merlin kissed him sloppily, grabbing at him but seeming unable to decide where to touch first, his hands settled on Arthur’s waist and their bare chests crashed together. The next moment he was pulling away to sob into his neck, and Arthur gentled him, running his hands down his back.</p><p>“Come, love. Let’s get you out of the water.”</p><p>Merlin nodded, gasping around his tears of distress or joy, Arthur couldn’t tell which. Probably both. “Wh-why were we bathing in front of an audience?” He asked through his tears, and Arthur laughed in delight. </p><p>He couldn’t <i>believe</i> Merlin was alive.</p><p>“There was a spell to bring you back.” He explained as he helped him stand, climbing out to grab the cloth to dry off. He stripped off his soaked breeches when they clung unpleasantly, and after wrapping the sheet about Merlin’s shoulders helped him out of his own. “You were asleep for two weeks, and this was the only way we found to help you wake.” He guided him toward the bed. “Are you hungry?”</p><p>Merlin shook his head, “I feel- I feel strange.” He murmured, and as he sank back into the warm covers his hand came up to rest on Arthur’s cheek. His eyes flared gold and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, closing his eyes as familiar magic washed over him.</p><p>“Your magic?” Merlin’s voice rose in alarm a second later. “What happened to it Arthur? I can’t feel it-”</p><p>He opened his eyes. “I gave it all to you.” He said. “You were dying, Merlin. I don’t need magic to live like you do. I would die for you, living without magic is a small price to pay to have you here, alive and well.” Merlin looked stricken. Arthur kissed him on the mouth. “Can you feel it?”    </p><p>Merlin’s gaze went distant as he assessed his magic. Then his eyes went wide, and he gazed up at Arthur in wonder. </p><p>“How is this possible?” He whispered. “It’s as if you are in <i>here</i>.” He pressed a hand to his heart. Then his face crumpled. “How can I keep this? Arthur I can’t take this from you- I didn’t want to take your magic ever again-”</p><p>“Merlin.” He smiled, unable to stay stern with so much happiness flooding his world. “It’s okay. It was my gift to give, and I will be expecting that strawberry garden at some point.” </p><p>He kissed him again. Merlin huffed something that sounded like ‘prat’ against his lips then twined his arms around his neck and kissed him back. </p><p>Arthur plundered his mouth with enthusiasm, loving the taste of him, the softness of his tongue, the pleasured moans that caught in his throat. He had thought he’d never have this again. </p><p>Merlin was alive and he wanted to feel him everywhere, to fuse them together. He wanted to stay like this forever. </p><p>“Arthur.” Merlin sighed as he sucked bruises into his neck, his chest was heaving with each breath and he rubbed against him restlessly, hard and hot. </p><p>He took hold of him firmly, looking up to watch him as Merlin gasped and groaned in response. The sight of those piercing blue eyes blown wide and dark as Merlin gazed back at him sent arousal through him like magic.</p><p>He fit them together, losing himself in the heat of lips and hands on sweat slick skin. The velvet heat of him as he opened him with shaking fingers. The way his eyes shone gold when he pushed in deep, then deeper, and his blood was on fire, the feeling of being connected completely all consuming. Merlin tugged him close with long legs wrapping his waist and hands clutching at his hair, hot lips were on his neck and Merlin’s voice was wrecked as he grunted and whined with each thrust.</p><p>Their urgency built with the pleasure, movements becoming jerky as their hands gripped and squeezed, sharing hot breath as he sought Merlin’s mouth once more. Then Merin was arching into him, clinging to him, shuddering as he bit down on his lip with a moan, and Arthur crushed him to the bed as it washed over him as well. He floated in contentment, pressing “I love you” into his temple, into the curve of his neck, and then they were kissing again, languid and warm.</p><p>They lay like that for a long time, the thrum of their hearts slowing and the sweat on their bodies cooling, but between them was warm and safe. Arthur lifted his head from the pillow to look down at him, and Merlin smiled back at him, soft fingers running up and down the length of his back. </p><p>“I would have you by my side until my dying day.” He swore to him. “I would rule this kingdom with you.” </p><p>Merlin quirked a brow and one cheek dimpled. “I would just have…you.” </p><p>Arthur grinned at him, “Then you shall have me.” </p><p>He finally moved to lay beside him, Merlin shifting to fit into his arms again as Arthur pulled the blankets over them. “Much has happened while you were gone.” He said. “There is still so much we have to repair, new laws and treaties to settle. Then a wedding and coronation, and plenty of knighting and official proclamations to follow, as well. Morgana has quite a lot of it well under hand, but as for the magic, well, I wanted to ask you to be my magician.”</p><p>“You mean Court Sorcerer?” Merlin grinned, and Arthur crushed him tightly in his arms.   </p><p>“Oh, I am sorry. I meant to say His Lord Grace Highly Esteemed Principal Court Sorcerer of Camelot.” Merlin rolled his yes. “The second.”</p><p>“Don’t think you can convince me there was ever a first.” Merlin laughed, elbowing him, and Arthur swallowed the sound of that laugh with his lips.</p><p>When he pulled away at last Merlin smirked up at him, a telltale lingering trace of gold fading from his eyes.</p><p>“What was that?” Arthur murmured, feeling so content with everything that was his life. Well, honestly, his whole life was currently twisting fingers in his hair and tugging, and as he dipped to kiss him again something slid off his head.</p><p>When he looked to the pillow it was to see a crown made of white daisies, and that little empty part of him that ached for his magic felt like less of a wound and more like a gift. He would long for it forever, but when he slipped the flower crown onto Merlin’s raven locks instead, he knew he would relish that pain. </p><p>Merlin was laughing, gorgeous and <i>his</i>, and this was their ending.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>++++++++++++++++++++</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It had taken him them better part of a month, but as Merlin took a step back to survey his work, his chest filled with pride at the rightness of it, the knowledge that it had been worth it. </p><p>This was perfect. </p><p>He brushed fingers stained with colored pigment across the vague impression of a face. The hair of the figure was gold like the sun, and his identity would be obvious to anyone who looked. The small dark-haired form beside it was another good indication.</p><p>This project was not his alone, and his heart skipped in excitement as he thought that it was finally ready to show to Arthur. </p><p>The mural stretched along the whole length of the inner-city wall. The wall which he’d helped rebuild with sweat and magic, learning the accomplished burn of muscles spent in labor, of the joy of using magic for such mundane tasks as shaping stone and steadying walls. </p><p>The iconic white stones of Camelot had beckoned him with their empty expanse just waiting for color and life. </p><p>He had gone through the whole of that vast city. He had knocked on every door and asked for each name of each face he looked into. It wasn’t like he could remember all those faces, let alone their names, but they would know him. They should know him. </p><p>He had much to atone for still, and his heart had nearly stopped when after three days of painting at the wall alone, the first person came hesitantly to join him. She was freckle-faced and tucked her auburn hair behind her ears shyly. She had a story to tell, and as Merlin listened, he drew it on the wall. </p><p>Magic gave him pigments of all colors of the rainbow, helped cut and shatter glass into pieces he fused into the art, graciously took the flowers or trinkets the people brought with them. All of it went onto the wall, and day by day it spread just a bit further around the city. Each day more people came to watch, came to share their stories, and Merlin’s heart was healing.</p><p>He laughed in delight when a young lad not even quite five had asked him to add his dream to the wall. He lifted the boy on his shoulders and had him reach up with hands stained blue to color the scales of the dragon Merlin drew for him. The small child he painted atop its back had his arms thrown wide to the sky.</p><p>He was almost sad when it was done. </p><p>The vastness of it was staggering. It took a full afternoon to walk along the full expanse of it, and he would miss the days spend in the company of the people, of their smiles and their stories. </p><p>Even the eyes that held anger or grief were welcome and he gave their stories extra magic as he went, magic that would radiate comfort and a hope, something to look forward to, something to help them find solace. It wasn't much, and he wished he could just take all their burdens unto himself.</p><p>Arthur was still on the training field with the knights when Merlin finally went to fetch him. The sun gleamed off his hair and was a bright curving shine on his chainmail. </p><p>Merlin’s other project had been spending many hours tucked away in the armory with Percival or down in the smithy with the new blacksmith. She was a sweet girl named Gwen who had come along with Alba's army in search of her brother, and after learning of his death had decided to stay. She was the friend he felt he'd always been waiting for, and oftentimes their work lay forgotten as she regaled him with stories of Arthur in his youth. Merlin always left her with a token of gratitude imbued with magic, and it wasn't long before it became standard for her hair to be adorned with a pin that twinkled like jewels, or a flower that never lost its color or scent.</p><p>With the aid of their knowledge of metalworking and weaponry, he had researched and tested a variety of spells on both weapons and armor. They were in the final stages of developing a new sort of chainmail, at Arthur’s request, that was both light as fabric yet as strong as steel. One of his duties henceforth would be to enchant the raw materials that came for the fashioning of such thing, and Merlin took the task seriously.</p><p>Arthur turned to greet him, and Merlin stepped in close to smell the sweat and musk of him. Arthur pecked him on the cheek, even as the inevitable catcalls followed the gesture, and smiled much too smugly.</p><p>“To what do I owe the pleasure, My Lord Grace Highly Estee-”</p><p>“Shut <i>up</i>!” Merlin groused, jabbing him in the stomach with a fist. </p><p>Arthur laughed at him, catching his hand with an amused expression as he noticed the green and yellow paints crusted there. “What <i>have</i> you been up to, then?” He asked for what must have been the thousandth time. </p><p>Merlin bit his lip against the grin that tried to split his face. “Why don’t I show you?” He said.</p><p>Arthur gaped at him. “What- now?”</p><p>Merlin nodded, and then the knights were crowding around them and literally started dragging Arthur off the field and towards the town. None of them would answer his questions and Merlin followed behind with sweet anticipation bursting like butterflies in his stomach. </p><p>Lancelot threw one arm over his shoulders and Merlin thought of the scene he’d done for him- a great golden gryphon soaring between the green canopy of trees while the ground below was a riot of wildflowers. A dark-haired youth faced a child with blue eyes, and he leaned into his friend gratefully. </p><p>Their party of knights had grown into a massive crowd by the time they approached the main gates, and Arthur looked about at them all in confusion. The smiles and chattering voices swelled into the murmuring of a storm, and Arthur tried to catch his eye amidst the swarm of townspeople. </p><p>Merlin gently pushed his way through until he was by his side, taking his hand and turning him forward again to where the mural was now clearly visible.</p><p>Arthur stumbled to a stop and stared at it silently. His eyes roved along the vivid depictions, scrawling and trailing off along the wall in both directions, and then he turned to Merlin, his eyes shining bright with emotion.</p><p>“Merlin-” He began, but Merlin shook his head.</p><p>He led him by the hand up close to the wall, the rest of the onlookers hanging back to give them some privacy. His heart raced. He’d been waiting for this moment.</p><p>“Place your hand just there?” He said, indicating the little golden king and sorcerer who held hands, just like them. The words were an echo of another time and a different mural, and he knew Arthur remembered as well as he did.</p><p>Arthur sucked in a breath, his hand clenching around Merlin’s tightly. “Merlin, I can’t-” He tried to say, but Merlin just tugged their joint hands forward to press Arthur’s palm to the image.</p><p>Arthur sagged to his knees as the magic leapt to life at his touch. Merlin had spelled it to respond to him and him alone. </p><p>Before them the wall came alive, a swirling dance of colors and images, magic and sunlight glinting off glass and sparkling in the life-like eyes of horses and children. It was grand and more than a little excessive, but it was the story of Camelot, <i>their</i> story, and he knew Arthur would know it for the expression of his heart. </p><p>This story was precious, and now it was there for all to see.</p><p>Then Arthur was kissing him. Right there in front of everyone, and Merlin couldn’t even be bothered knowing that maybe the people might not be distracted by the magical mural enough not to ogle their King and Court Sorcerer. But he pulled him closer because every time they touched Arthur’s magic sparkled inside of him, and he loved him, loved him, loved him.</p><p>Arthur pulled away to beam at him, tears misting his eyes and a laugh on his lips. </p><p>“Merlin.” He said calmly, suddenly serious as he searched his eyes. His thumbs ran absently over his cheekbones. “I forgot to add the most officially important name to your title-”</p><p>And Merlin groaned, throwing his head back to laugh at the sky. </p><p>“I’m serious!” Arthur continued while Merlin scoffed. “We will go now so I can proclaim you as Prince Consort, and then we shall go straight back to our chambers, and I will <i>honor</i> your Lordship like never before-”</p><p>There were people right next to them, hanging on every word, and Merlin slapped his hand against the wall with a burst of embarrassed, <i>joyful</i> magic, laughing and laughing as red strawberries erupted along the expanse of it, the green leaves clung to the surface and crawled over and around the pictures. </p><p>A mural and strawberries, that was the least of what he wanted to give this king, this man he loved, and Arthur was joining his laughter and picking one with all the awed amazement of a child. There was darkness and pain in their story, but it made this moment all the sweeter. </p><p>Every day for the next week, Arthur would get restless in his chair towards the end of council sessions, his eyes flickering repeatedly to Merlin no matter how he seemed to try and control himself. He was horribly obvious, but most of the council was also in awe of the magic he and Morgana showed them day after day, that it would be some time yet before this became their normal. </p><p>They were on to more mundane things such as crops and village development, but Merlin still found it fascinating. The world was opening before him like never before, and he was earnest and eager in his newfound power to influence it in the way he wished, in a way that was good.</p><p>“Walk with me?” Arthur breathed out all at once as he stood after the last noble had left the room.</p><p>“Anywhere.” Merlin smiled. </p><p>Arthur drew him to the wall once again, and he smirked at Merlin before he leaned down to wake the little figures with a kiss. When he turned those lips on Merlin, he tasted of strawberries.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*******************************************</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>omggg I could barely even stand to reread and edit that ending.. I almost killed myself with the sappiness X_X!!!<br/>I hope it was happy sappy enough for all the angst they went through :D</p><p>aaand a couple loose ends I didn't feel really fit in:<br/>- Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin raising raven babies together.<br/>- Arthur taking Merlin back to his old home so he can raze it to the GROUND.<br/>- the discovery of a dragon under the castle, some destiny, and Dragonlord getting added to Merlin's titles :P</p><p>I think there were some other things I forgot to sort of tie up, but hopefully all the main important ones are satisfied. :)</p><p>THANK YOU thank you so much for reading this long crazy thing !!! &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3&lt;3</p>
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